


How the Decepticons Rocked the Stellarverse

by eternityforflesh



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, M/M, Megatron Origin - AU, Parallel Universes, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Slash, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 46,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2356997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternityforflesh/pseuds/eternityforflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a Cybertron that never became such a rampantly corrupt and unjust world, Megatron never became the miner who became a gladiator who became a revolutionary who killed a Prime. Still determined to shake things up and leave his mighty mark on the stellarverse, Megatron is a miner-turned-musician intent on conquering Cybertron in the designation of Rock 'n' Roll, and with the most talented Seeker trine in Vos and the ever-loyal Soundwave as members of his band, the Decepticons, he has a good chance of succeeding. A (mostly) Megatron Origin AU.</p><p>Fluffy at times, crackish in general, cross-referential as slag, and so much heavy metal geekage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cybertronian - Terran Time Equivalencies  
> breem – 8.3 minutes  
> deca-cycle – week  
> quartex – month  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: nothing explicit in this chapter, but oh so much Cybertronian swearing.

     With the roar of the crowd ringing in their audials, the Decepticons made their way down the stairs off the stage. Their joints creaked with stress and exhaustion and condensation smeared their frames.

     “That might be the best show _I've_ ever played!” Starcream announced, unhooking his guitar and propping it up on a nearby stand.

     “It was a good show,” Megatron growled. “We _all_ played well.”

     “You have to admit: _I_ was stunning!” Starscream purred. “Did you hear them screaming themselves stupid over _me_?”

     Megatron shook his helm, too exhausted to argue further. He took a cleaning mesh from sub-space and started to blot at the condensation on his plating.

     Starscream bounced around preening and flicking his wings excitedly. How he found the energy to move like that Megatron didn't know. It was a good show; the Decepticons had played hard and Starscream, reveling in the crowd's attention, had taken his performance to a level Megatron had never seen before in all the quartexes they'd been rehearsing and playing together.

     He glanced over at Soundwave who was busy packing his cassettes, Ravage and Laserbeak, away. Soundwave, always loyal, always hard-working, never complaining. They had been friends for many vorns, jamming off and on with various bands. It wasn't until the screechy seeker and his trine joined them in their jamming, bringing guitar, bass and keyboards, that they had really gelled as a musical entity. Now, the Decepticons had been touring Cybertron for a quartex, playing in any bar or club that would have them.

     Megatron was interrupted in his cleaning by a loud flat voice.

     “Decepticons! Excellent show!” A large, purple single-opticked mech approached them with his hands raised.

     Megatron glanced up at the mech. Great, he thought, another fan wanting to talk just when he wanted to load out and get back on the road.

     “Yes! I've been following you for a few shows and this night-cycle was simply splendid,” he continued in his odd voice.

     Groaning inwardly while the rest of the band ignored the blocky mech as they packed up their equipment, Megatron knew it was up to him to handle this overexcited fan.

     “We're busy,” he said, sweeping a hand across the room where many mechs bustled back and forth.

     “I know,” the mech replied with a lilt. “I came to offer my services.”

     “Services?”

     “I manage bands across the stellar system. My designation is Shockwave. You are Megatron of the Decepticons. News reached my audials a few deca-cycles ago about a great new band on Cyberton. I found your videos on the Yox so I made it a point to find out more.”

     “So you want to manage us?”

     “Yes! Very much so. You mechs are incredible! I have connections with the best clubs – much better than this pit – all across the system and I could get you on some rather important bills. The Decepticons would be the absolute rage!” Shockwave enthused.

     At that last sentence, Starscream perked up and wandered over, his optics flaring.

     “The rage, you say? Better clubs?” he whirled on Megatron. “How long do you expect me to keep playing in these filthy bars for bad high-grade and just enough credits to get us to the next city?”

     Megatron heard Soundwave vent a sigh. Apparently, Thundercracker and Skywarp were too preoccupied with their equipment to overhear but he was sure they would soon as Starscream grew louder.

     “I'm gonna be huge! I can see it now: Lord Starscream and the Decepticons! My designation on all the marquees of the best rock clubs on Cyberton.” His voice grew screechier with each word, his hands clenching and unclenching as he savored his impending stardom.

     “Starscream,” Megatron growled as he placed a heavy hand on the seeker's wing. Starscream's tirade fizzled. “I'll be the judge of this offer.” His optics bored into the purple mech's single optic. “We're a new band. This is only our first tour. We don't need management as this point.”

     “Why waste your energon playing for 'bad high-grade and just enough credits to get to the next city?' I could get you a spot at the Audial in Iacon at the end of the quartex. Two of my bands are already on the bill. You're familiar with the Autobots and the Constructicons?”

     It was hard for Megatron to keep his optics from widening at the mention of those two names. The Autobots were THE band on Cyberton and the Constructicons had been making a name for themselves for the last stellar cycle; they were even nominaoted for a Matrix, one of the top Cybertronian music awards. It would be a huge break for the Decepticons just to be the opening band on a bill with those two groups.

     Unfortunately, that set Starscream off again. He bounced up and down, his mouth hanging open, but not for long.

     “You manage the Constructicons AND the Autobots? Primus, I would blow them away! I have a new song I've been working on. My best ever!” he shouted. “How do I sign up?”

     Megatron's optics cycled and his vents heaved a heavy sigh after he saw Thundercracker and Skywarp turn and come closer.

     “The Autobots? At the Audial?” Skywarp giggled. “Gee, TC, can you imagine?”

     Thundercracker was thankfully a more reserved mech – he was a bass player after all -- and he looked warily at the purple mech. “That's nice, but I don't know, Warp. What about it, Megatron?”

     Before Megatron could spark his vocalizer to dismiss the purple mech, that same mech piped up.

     “Its never too soon, but it could always be too late.” His yellow optic pulsed and Megatron felt reminded of Soundwave. “The Decepticons could sign a contract this night-cycle and leave places like this behind.” He took a datapad out of subspace.

     Starscream nearly tackled him but Thundercracker stepped forward and wrapped a strong blue arm around his waist to restrain him. Megatron stepped between the struggling seekers and Shockwave.

     “The offer is tempting. It would be a real break for us to play. Let me see this contract.” He held out a large black hand. Shockwave passed it to him and immediately began selling the idea.

     “I've been in business for vorns. The Autobots and the Constructicons are my newer bands. I managed the Gladiators before they retired. That concert they played at the Royal Auditorium in Vos, I booked that show,” he said.

     “You mean the one where Blitzwing played drums while his kit spun around in a cage over the audience?” Skywarp squealed.

     “The very same,” Shockwave said.

     “I saw a holovid of that when I was a youngling! It was the most awesome thing ever!” Starscream jumped in. “One of my sires was there. He's the one who showed me the holovid.”

     Megatron felt like he was losing control of the conversation. Damned excitable seekers. He scrolled further on the datapad.

     “You take ten percent of our fees?” he said slowly.

     “That's the industry standard,” the mono-optic explained, still sounding cheerful.

     “Ten percent of nothing is nothing,” Megatron replied, scrolling further.

     “My reputation as a manager is widely known. Even though the Decepticons are a new band, I could command quite a sum of credits for your performance at the Audial.”

     “How much?” Megatron paused in his scrolling. Even Soundwave paused to listen.

     “A thousand shaniz for each of you to start.”

     The backstage erupted in a blast of shouting. Megatron winced.

     “A thousand shanix! Are you fragging kidding?” Skywarp shrieked, sounding a lot like Starscream.

     “Could I get a bigger cut since I am the best musician here,” Starscream needled. Even Thundercracker looked shocked.

     Megatron glanced over at Soundwave whose visor had brightened quite a bit. He held out the datapad.

     “Read this over and tell me what you think.” Soundwave took the datapad silently and began reading. Megatron turned to the purple mech with a sly grin.

     “Soundwave might be a drummer but he has a solid processor. Give him a few kliks to look through your contract and you'll have an answer.”

     Shockwave nodded as Skywarp clutched at his arm and Starscream hung on the other.

     “How have we never heard of you before, Shockwave?” asked Starscream with a slightly dazed look in his optics. “You're like a Knight of Cybertron.”

     The blocky mech chuckled.

     “My job is to manage, stay in the background. The talent I manage speak for themselves. It's not a thankless career as I've taken many bands to the heights of successes, but outside the music industry, I don't get much recognition,” he said sounding humble yet proud.

     Interesting, Megatron thought. He looked over at Soundwave and by the glint in his visor, he knew the drummer was analyzing furiously.

     Skywarp and Starscream continued fawning over Shockwave, the mono-optic seemingly delighted by the attention from the two sleek seekers. Megatron found himself glad that he had let the jets join his band. The frag appeal they radiated was undeniable. Mechs crowded the stage reached eager servos towards them as they played and stared at them hungrily. The seekers were also amazing musicians and their showmechship was second to none.

     “Megatron,” Soundwave intoned.

     “Tell me.”

     “Summary: Ten percent fee per performance. Merch deal: net minus twenty percent. Guaranteed four shows per quartex. Riders to our specifications. Dedicated transport. Road crew. Possible endorsement. Recording time for album. Stellar tour in support of album. Analysis: Satisfactory offer.”

     Megatron almost whistled and he knew Soundwave was most excited about having a road crew. Sometimes Megatron helped him load his drums, but never the seekers. They were usually too busy talking to swooning fans at the bar.

     He turned to Shockwave who was still being pawed by the seekers. He caught his yellow optic after a moment.

     “A thousand shanix each _to start_?” he asked.

     “Yes. Easily. You have no idea how much the Autobots get but it would astound you. And the Decepticons are very promising. Very promising.”

     “Four shows per quartex?”

     “Also, easily. More during tours. As I stated before, I have connections across the entire stellar system. Quality connections eager for good new bands to fill their venues. Of course, the Decepticons would be opening, but if you perform every show like you did this night-cycle, headlining is a possibility very soon.”

     The entire band turned to Megatron with bright optics. The seekers had a distinct look of desperation. Soundwave, he knew, was along more for the ride than the attention or fame, but what a ride this could turn out to be. Megatron's usually stern face quirked.

     “If everyone agrees...,” he began only to be drowned out by victorious shouts. Skywarp punched the air. Starscream unconsciously powered his thrusters while he cheered and lifted about a foot off the ground before realizing what he had done and powered them down gently. Thundercracker was grinning uncontrollably and even Soundwave seemed pleased behind his mask and visor.

     Waiting for everyone to calm down again, Megatron watched Shockwave. The offer seemed legitimate. He trusted Soundwave's evaluation and playing the Audial ahead of the Autobots AND the Constructicons was a long way from the mines of Kaon. A thousand shanix for thirty minutes of performance was a long way from his wages at the mines, too. He actually felt good.

     “If everyone agrees,” he began and glared as the seekers made to celebrate again. They settled down and he finished his thought. “We will sign your contract. We still have two shows to play before we can prepare to play the Audial.”

     “I'm aware of these shows,” said Shockwave taking a digi-flyer from his subspace. He read, “The Scrap in Helex in two orns and The Cube in Tesarus six orns after that. Hardly venues befitting a band with the caliber of management you are about to acquire.”

     “We can't go back on our agreements,” Megatron warned though the seekers seemed much aghast. All three hitched their vocalizers to protest and Megatron held up a hand to stop them.

     “No, that's not befitting the Decepticons either,” the mono-optic agreed. “But perhaps I can renegotiate your agreements. I have agents in both those cities who are familiar with the owners of those clubs.”

     “You aren't going to get a hundred shanix out of those waste-ports,” Starscream sneered. “Much less a thousand for each of us.”

     “True, but my team can be very persuasive. Maybe a higher place on the bill?”

     “It doesn't matter, we just have to play those shows,” Megatron said. “After that, we storm Iacon. When can you confirm our place on that show?”

     “Authorize the contract and I will send out the necessary comms,” Shockwave said, gesturing to the almost forgotten datapad in Megatron's servo.

     “You knew we would accept your offer,” Megatron said, an optic ridge raised.

     The purple mech's optic pulsed.

     “I believed that you knew your potential as a band and I believed that you would understand how my help and guidance could grant you that potential. So, authorizations?”

     Starscream nearly barreled over Megatron in his eagerness to authorize the contract. Megatron held the datapad out as far as he could to avoid flailing seekers as one by one they entered their authorizations into it. Soundwave, silent as always, stepped up and entered his authorization. Megatron could almost feel the happiness radiating from his drummer. Finally, Megatron added his authorization and passed the datapad back to Shockwave. The mech looked carefully at all the codes and then tapped his own in while humming in a pleased way.

     “Well, my mechs, welcome to the future. Allow me to go send out those comms and then we'll celebrate our new business arrangement.” He bowed slightly and left the room.

     For the third time that night-cycle, Megatron's audials were assaulted by the seekers' shouts. It was going to be a long few joors and their equipment still wasn't loaded on the old transport cruiser he and Soundwave had bought at a scrapyard and restored to a barely functional level. He grabbed Skywarp and Starscream by the shoulder vents and forced himself not to knock their heads together.

     “Let's get loaded out and then we can celebrate,” he said firmly and the jets immediately began whining. “Just shut up and do it or I'll smash your hands and then we'll see how well you play.”

     Starscream sneered over his shoulder, but he shook himself loose from Megatron's grasp and trudged over to his guitar. The other two seekers, seeing their leader cowed, also began silently retrieving their equipment. Soundwave already had a drum case hefted onto his shoulder and held a cymbal stand in his other hand. Shaking his head slightly, Megatron picked up two more drum cases and led the way to the transport.

     After half a joor, everything was loaded up carefully into the transport. Skywarp shut the back doors and leaned his back strut against them. He seemed tired but in an instant, he perked back up and grinned like a fool.

     “Now, how about that celebration?”

     Just as Megatron was going to argue with him, Shockwave appeared out of the back door of the club.

     “Good. You're packed up. Apparently, there is no quality high-grade here so let's go elsewhere. On me, my good mechs,” he added cheerfully.

     “Do you want to ride with us? How far are we going?” Skywarp piped.

     The mono-optic looked at the battered transport for a few nano-kliks.

     “I have a personal transport out front if you'll join me,” he said.

     “But what about our stuff?” asked Thundercracker.

     “I can have another driver take it to your lodging. Where are you staying?”

     “Sector seven, block delta. A place called Lodge 93,” Megatron said, and Shockwave winced, or as close as he could get to a wince.

     “That's a rather rusty part of the city,” the purple mech said carefully. “I will get you accommodations at my lodging. As a courtesy.”

     The seekers seemed thankful, but Megatron and Soundwave exchanged a glance. This was pretty sweet treatment from someone they just hired. The blocky mech motioned for them to follow him as he turned towards the alley running down the side of the venue. They followed and the seekers whispered excitedly to each other.

     They emerged from the dark alley into the somewhat less dark street and immediately stopped short. A long, gleaming black transport waited in the street, its engines purring softly. A similarly shiny black mech stepped from around the side.

     “Sir,” he said deferentially and nodded his head slightly.

     “Please comm a driver to take my newest clients' transport to my lodging. Its stationed behind the venue and comm the lodging to hold some rooms for them, too,” he said, turning to Megatron with a question in his voice.

     “Two rooms,” Megatron said, knowing what question he was asking. The seekers had their own room and he always shared with Soundwave if they could afford to not all stay in the same room.

     “Very well, two rooms,” he said.

     The shiny black mech nodded and paused for a few nano-kliks.

     “It is done,” he said and reached for the door to the transport. Shockwave entered and motioned for the Decepticons to join him. Megatron looked at the speechless seekers and was grateful for the silence as he couldn't take another round of howling. His audials were still ringing from their concert. They all filed eagerly into the transport.

     The silence didn't last long but at least it was broken by whispers.

     “Is this yours?” Starscream asked with wide optics.

     “Yes, I might operate in the background, but that doesn't mean I can't have some luxuries,” the mono-optic said, sitting back on a plush seat.

     Thundercracker and Skywarp looked at each other for a moment in disbelief and then took seats at the darkened windows. Megatron and Soundwave, being much larger mechs, had to stoop a little to move around the inside of the transport but once seated, they were very comfortable. Thinking that this was much better than the old rust bucket of a transport that he had to kick to start, he leaned back and sighed. Starscream was already lounging like he owned the transport, wings snuggled carefully into the cushy backrest.

     “Gentlemechs,” Shockwave announced. “Let this be the beginning of a very mutually beneficial professional relationship.” He produced a container of energon and began pouring cubes for the bandmates. After each musician took his cube, their new manager tapped a comm button and said to the driver: “Take us to the Aileron and let them know I am bringing the hottest new band on Cyberton.” His optic pulsed and he raised his cube. The Decepticons raised theirs as well.

     “Blessed Primus,” and they all answered in unison and drank.

     “The Aileron? Is that a fancy place? They won't let mechs like us in!” Skywarp said.

     “Don't worry, Skywarp,” the purple mech assured him. “I am friends with the owner. He knows I only bring the best.” He took another sip from his cube.

     Skywarp thought about it for a few nano-kliks and then took a big gulp from his cube. He looked at Thundercracker who was deep in thought, his optics fixed on his cube of energon. He reached over and patted the blue seeker on the thigh. Thundercracker looked up and smiled.

     “This is pretty awesome, Warp,” he said.

     “You bet, TC!” Skywarp enthused.

     “Well, it was only a matter of time until _my_ songs were heard by the right mech,” Starscream announced, trying to take all the credit for their seeming new-found success. “If you want to thank me now, I'll hear it.”

     “We _all_ write the songs _together_ , Starscream,” Megatron muttered but Starscream heard him and snorted.

     “Maybe you all give a little input, but we all know _I'm_ the driving force behind this band.”

     “I'd like to see you go on stage with your guitar and try to sing. You can't even hold a note,” Megatron shot back.

     “And your voice sounds like the Pit!” Starscream screeched.

     “Screamer, please,” said Thundercracker. “Can't we just enjoy a few kliks of quiet with our high-grade before you start with the racket?”

     “Racket? Racket? Is that what you did with your bass tonight when we played 'Seek and Destroy?'”

     “I lost the tuning. Fraggin cheap strings,” he said. “Nobody could tell.”

     “I could tell and it sounded like slag! Almost threw me off my solo!”

     Shockwave watched this exchange with his optic pulsing lightly in amusement but decided to interrupt.

     “Good mechs, we are almost to the Aileron. Please finish your cubes. There'll be more inside, of course,” he said winningly. He set down his finished cube, his optic shining brightly in the dim interior of the transport.

     The Decepticons wasted no time downing their own high-grade. Skywarp smacked his lips as he finished and Thundercracker thumped him on the head.

     “Primus, I hate when you do that,” he grumbled. Warp just grinned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic's title is based on a rather horrific but totally awesome Cthulhu Mythos story named "How Nyarlathotep Rocked Our World." I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There is much more to come. Plox muchly with reviews and comments.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decepticons + free drinks = !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: nothing explicit, just a few drunken mechs with wandering hands. And a whole bunch of Cybertronian cussing.

     The transport slowed and the bandmates looked through the tinted windows at the club they had just pulled up to. The Aileron was a sleek, narrow building several stories tall. The street lighting shone yellow on its gleaming metal except where the blue-lit sign reflected. It was a newer building in a newer part of Tarn, but it already had a reputation for lavishness and as a hotspot for the more well-off mechs of the city.

     As the door of the transport opened, Starscream leapt out with a triumphant cry. The rest of the Decepticons climbed out slowly, followed closely by their manager who dismissed the transport with a nod of his head.

     Seeing the impossibly shiny mechs and femmes going in and out of the Aileron left most of the Decepticons feeling out of place and more than a bit shabby. But not Starscream, who extended his arms and lifted his face up to the soft blue light of the marquee as if he were bathing in it's glow. Megatron grunted in exasperation. He raised his hand to yank Starscream back from acting like a fool when Shockwave cut in.

     “Follow me, Decepticons. The doormech is expecting us.” He strode confidently to a solidly-built blue mech standing at the entrance to the Aileron. He waved back to the Decepticons who stuttered to motion and approached the two talking mechs. The mono-optic turned back and said, “Come along, my friend has reserved a space for us.”

     The mechs walked in after their manager and were almost crushed by the sound of pulsating music booming from the sound system. Skywarp started dancing and Thundercracker put a restraining hand on his arm. Leaning close to the purple jet's audial, he half-shouted, “Wait until we find our space. Then, whatever you want to do.” Skywarp nodded but still wiggled his aft as he walked.

     Starscream was strutting along with his wings hitched higher than Megatron had ever seen before. He always took care to polish himself before a show so he looked in better shape than the rest of them. However, with his head whipping back and forth like a youngling in an energon confectionary, optics greedily surveying the club and its denizens, Megatron couldn't help but chuckle. He put a brotherly arm around Soundwave's shoulders and laughed long and hard. Soundwave never laughed but he relaxed against Megatron and his visor flashed a few times.

     Shockwave led them along the floor and then up a short flight of steps to a room on a platform. He gestured for them to seat themselves then motioned for a server. Megatron was mildly astonished at the decadence of the room. The benches were thickly padded and cushions littered them all. They formed a U-shape around a low, wide table. Sheer mesh curtains hung along the walls and small blue lights mounted between the curtains lit the space. As he sat, he faced the club and dancefloor. The platform was the perfect place to watch everything happening below.

     Megatron, Soundwave and Shockwave sat on one side of the U and the seekers on the other with Starscream directly to Megatron's left. The server was returning with several cubes of high-grade, but to Megatron's optics, it seemed to be a brighter, more intense pink than usual. He shrugged his massive shoulders and took the cube offered to him by the server.

     “Compliments of the house!” The mono-optic shouted to be heard over the music.

     Skywarp threw the cube back and immediately spluttered.

     “Its fizzy!” he shouted, wiping energon from his chin.

     “Its a specialty of the house! Meant to be sipped!” the purple mech explained. “Very strong, too!”

     Trying to avoid embarrassing themselves like Skywarp had, the rest of the Decepticons sipped slowly. They all nodded awkwardly to each other, confirming the fizziness of the drink and it's apparent strength.

     Starscream leaned back on the bench and put his thrusters on the low table. Megatron didn't even bother to knock his legs down. Frag it, he thought, for one night-cycle he was going to enjoy himself and not give a frag about that idiot. Even Soundwave seemed to enjoying himself so why shouldn't he?

     Megatron was about to shutter his optics and lean back to savor the burn of the energon in his tank when Skywarp jumped from the bench.

     “I love this song!” he shouted. He raised his arm to pour the rest of his cube down his intake then remembered what had happened earlier. So he sat and finished it in one long slow swallow. “TC, come with me!” and he began yanking on Thundercracker's free arm.

     “Let me finish this, Warp,” he said, taking another polite sip. “I'll find you. You dance like a glitch anyway. You're not hard to spot.”

     Before Skywarp could dash to the dancefloor, Shockwave told him, “If you need to order a drink, just charge it back to room five!” Skywarp's grin stretched impossibly and he hopped down the steps and was lost in the crowd.

     “Are you really going to go dance with him?” Starscream asked lazily, waving his cube around.

     “Pit no,” Thundercracker said. “When I said he danced like a glitch, I meant it. There won't be a mech within 20 meters of him when he gets going.”

     All the mechs laughed except for Soundwave whose visor pulsed. For the next breem, they all sat in silence, sipping from their cubes, idly pondering the events that led them to where they now found themselves.

     Then Shockwave clapped his hands together.

     “Now that we've enjoyed a few drinks together, I must return to my lodging for a recharge. I am old and need my rest. There are also many preparations to be made now that we are working together. My transport will be waiting for you when you are ready to leave. My driver knows where to take you. Please enjoy yourselves. Good night-cycle, all.” he said and stepped off the platform.

     The Decepticons watched him until he disappeared among the dancing mechs.

     Starscream turned to look at his bandmates, a devious smile on his face. “You know what this means...party all night-cycle!” He slammed his empty cube down and waved at the server. As he was giving his order to the mech, Megatron shrugged his shoulders again. Before the mech could turn away, he said, “Make it two.”

     “Make it three!” shouted Thundercracker. Soundwave shook his head in a negative when the server looked at him.

     Megatron clapped a hand on Soundwave's back-strut, “Live a little, my mech! Make it four!”

     “Megatron: someone has to remain mostly sober,” Soundwave said.

     “How many times does a mech become a rockstar?” he shouted back feeling a little giddy for the first time that night-cycle. Primus, that fizzy stuff was strong, he thought. If the music hadn't been so loud, he would have heard Soundwave sigh.

     Then the server was back with four cubes of glowing liquid that was such a vibrant pink it was almost red. They all took one, Thundercracker looking at his asked, “What the Pit is this, Screamer?”

     “I asked about any other house specialties. He said this was triple distilled at their private processing plant. Its still energon, just fraggin strong!” Thundercracker looked worried. Starscream looked manic. Megastron still didn't give a frag.

     Starscream stood ceremoniously and held his cube out. “To our new manager, to rocking the Audial and kicking those Autobots in the face!” The remaining Decepticons cheered and stood. In unison, they shouted the Decepticon pre-show war-chant, “SLAG IT! FRAG IT! DECEPTICON DOMINATION!”

     They all threw back their cubes and gasped, intakes stuttering, as the strange energon set their systems buzzing with alarms.

     “Slag!” Thundercracker shouted, clutching at his canopy. Megatron had to blink back the lubricant that was tickling his optics. Soundwave sat back down gracelessly, not bothering to close his mask. Starscream stayed standing, optics blazing. “Another round!” he shouted to the server.

     Soon another round was placed in front of them, but only Starscream was brave enough to take it. He sneered at them. “The mighty Decepticons have turned into a bunch of sparklings, is it?”

     “Screamer, that stuff comes from the Unmaker,” Thundercracker warned and looked to Megatron for help. Megatron just shrugged and snatched his cube from the table.

     “Let's do it, Screamer!” he shouted and with their optics never leaving each other, they pounded their cubes. They both ended up coughing but it didn't seem as bad as before. They picked up their bandmates' cubes and shot those as well. That time, they just winced.

     They called for and shot two more sounds before Thundercracker stood up and said, “Maybe you oughta slow down. I feel dizzy from just that one cube. You've already had five and we just got here.”

     “Now look here, Thunderfragger...,” Megatron started when a flash of purple light blinded him.

     “Hey! Look what I found!” Skywarp shouted from where the purple flash had been, a femme under each arm. “They're here for a bonding ceremony party! This one is getting bonded tomorrow!” He shoved a slim yellow femme at Thundercracker. Her matching yellow optics were swimming as she smiled adoringly up at Thundercracker.

     “Are you the bass player?” she cooed, trailing a delicate hand down his canopy. “I just love bass players.”

     Thundercracker looked slightly shocked but recovered quickly. He drew a sly grin on his face and answered her, “Oh yeah, I hold down the bottom for the Decepticons.” He curled an arm around her tiny waist, drawing her closer.

     “My party is in room two. Come tell us all about how you 'hold down the bottom,'” she said with a sly grin to match Thundercracker's. All four mechs left the platform. Megatron watched them go. Fraggin seekers can't keep it behind their panels, he thought. Then he turned to hazily look at Starscream who seemed upset that Skywarp hadn't brought a friend for him. His lower lip was shoved out in a pout and his arms crossed over his canopy.

     At that moment, the server chose to check up on them and Megatron ordered a double round of the reddish energon. He wasn't going to worry about his seeker bandmates or himself finding an interface partner for that night-cycle. This was his chance to relax with free drinks and not have to do slag.

     He didn't even wince as the energon slid down his intake. It still roiled and burned savagely in his tank, but the first five were hitting him hard now and he really, really didn't give a frag. He didn't have to drive. He just had to stumble out of the Aileron on his own two pedes. And if he couldn't, Soundwave would haul him out. He could always count on solid old Soundwave.

     Remembering his bandmate, he looked over at him and found him leaning over with his head in his hands, mask shut again. Slightly concerned, he placed a huge hand gently on his friend's back-strut.

     “Soundwave, you okay?”

     After a pause, his muffled monotone voice came back, “Triple-distilled energon: bad idea.”

     “Are you going to purge?”

     Several long vents. Then, “Purge: not imminent. Recommendation: no more drinks.”

     Megatron groaned, but he doubted that in his misery Soundwave had heard him. “We can go back to wherever we're staying. Shockwave said his transport would be waiting....”

     A shriek interrupted him and sent his processor spinning.

          “We are NOT leaving! We've barely been here for a joor!” Starscream screeched. “This fragging lightweight!” He leaned over to swat Soundwave and came crashing down on the table. Finding himself face-to-face with Megatron's seventh round, he grabbed the cube and gulped it down. Wincing, he flung the cube over his shoulder vent. “Frag you and frag you, I want another round!”

     “We're pretty well fragged right now, Starscream,” Megatron said slowly, leaning over to speak into Starscream's face. As Starscream drew back a fist to punch him, he caught the smaller mech's wrist and dragged him across the table. The seeker squealed and thrashed, scattering empty cubes on the table, but Megatron still had the advantage despite being slagged halfway to the Pit.

     “Frag you! Lemme go! Who the frag do you think you are?” the seeker shrieked. Megatron pulled on his wrist until he could catch Starscream by the waist. The silver mech hauled the struggling one into his lap forcibly and held him there.

     “You shut the frag up or I'll stomp your aft until you're scrap,” Megatron growled in his audial. Starscream paused for a few nano-kliks and then started squirming and tugging at the silver arms pinning him down, but quietly.

     “Go get TC and Warp,” he told Soundwave. “I'll stay here with this dumb-aft to make sure he doesn't run off.”

     Soundwave nodded slowly and eased himself up from the bench even more slowly. He tottered out of the room and down the steps. It seemed to Megatron that he turned in the right direction. He knew Soundwave rarely got over-energized but two drinks putting a mech that big in such a sorry state, pathetic.

     His attention turned to the very drunk seeker in his lap. The very drunk, squirming seeker in his lap. It actually felt good to have an frame rubbing on him like that. He tightened his arms around Starscream without realizing it and it brought his chest panel into contact with the jet's fluttering wings. His very warm, fluttering wings. He reached a hand out to the edge of one wing and slid a finger along it.

     The wing flicked and a hiss reached his audials.

     “What...,” Starscream started, but static hitched his vocalizer.

     A deep drunken chuckle rumbled through Megatron's chest. Starscream's wings paused in their fluttering for a nano-klik and Megatron stroked the same wing again.

     “Ha ha, Screamer. You glitch,” he whispered suddenly finding his head to be very heavy. He leaned it against Starscream's. His optics were losing focus.

     “Bucket,” another hitch, “head.” Another stroke to the wing, this one from tip to back strut. Starscream shivered against his frame. In his highly energized state and close proximity to Starscream, he could detect the scent of his polish. Especially now since the jet's frame was running hot. He took his finger from back strut to wing-tip. Starscream's futile squirming became a grind. Completely unphased considering how incredibly slagged he was, Megatron slid the hand around the seeker's waist to clutch his hip.

     The gleaming white wings in front of him flicked seductively. Megatron's core temperature was skyrocketing, but he wasn't sure it was just the weird red energon anymore. When he heard Starscream moan, he brought his other hand to the jet's hip and crushed it to his frame. He felt more than saw the seeker spread his thighs and definitely felt when he started grinding more forcefully.

     Not even pausing to consider what they were doing, Megatron reached down between Starscream's thighs and began rubbing his interface panel. The plating was hot to the touch and Megatron saw temperature warnings start to flash across his optics as his own plating began to feel scorched.

     “Primus!” Starscream groaned and arched his back-strut against the silver mech's chest plating. A grasping blue hand slid back and latched on to Megatron's hip. Megatron began tracing Starscream's panel seams trying to feel out the manual latch. His fingers slid through something wet and sticky. He growled when he realized what it was. The nasty little glitch was so wet, he was leaking through his panel seams. Megatron tensed up to rock Starscream off his lap and onto the table in front of them when a purple flash blinded them both again. Both of the over-heated mechs turned to stare dumbly at a ridiculously slagged Skywarp, a thoroughly annoyed and almost as drunk Thundercracker and a miserable Soundwave, who seemed about to purge from the sensation of the teleport.

     The three mechs who had just appeared didn't even seem to notice that the two sitting down were tangled together in a compromising position. So Megatron stood up, dumping Starscream onto the floor, then reached down and yanked him back up by a shoulder vent.

     “Let's go!” he shouted and winced as it seemed like the entire club spun on its axis. He shoved past the other two seekers and they sagged together to keep from tumbling. He wasn't sure how he managed to lead his ragtag group of mechs out of the club because he was sure that at any nano-klik, he would offline and crash to the floor. The swirling lights and pounding music didn't help either. It was much louder and brighter along the dancefloor but he just kept his optics on the blue light at the door. At last, he pushed out into the yellow-lit street and the much less stifling air. His visual feed swam and he shuttered his optics trying to reboot his gyros.

     With a gentle shake of his head, he onlined his optics and everything seemed a little bit better. Then he realized he had a mostly limp seeker by a shoulder vent. He let go and Starscream slipped the rest of the way to the walkway. He groaned softly but didn't move. With a burst of sound, the door slammed open and the other three mechs stumbled out of the Aileron.

     They all stood there shakily looking at each other and then down at Starscream. Skywarp shrugged and then started giggling uncontrollably. Thundercracker soon joined in and they sank to the walkway in a heap. Soundwave's head was hung low and he was swaying slightly.

     Megatron jumped and nearly crashed onto his aft when a hand tapped him on the shoulder.

     “Sir,” a shiny black mech said. Megatron just gaped at him.

     “The transport is waiting. I will be taking you to your lodging for the night-cycle,” he stepped back and gestured to the shiny black transport they rode in earlier. The door was open.

     Megatron strained to pick up the still giggling seekers and almost toppled onto them as he leaned over. They managed to stay upright long enough to totter to the transport. Soundwave was right behind them almost doubled over. Megatron turned and sloppily kicked Starscream in the abdominal plating. The seeker grunted and onlined his flickering optics. He looked up at Megatron who was pointing at the transport. Heaving himself to his hands and knees, the jet began crawling slowly across the walkway. Megatron sighed and kicked him in the aft to hurry him up. The seeker lurched forward at the kick and crawled a little faster. None of them even noticed all the shiny well-to-do mechs who had paused to watch the drunken Decepticon spectacle.

     Megatron was the last to board the transport and was incredibly relieved when it started forward ever so gently and cruised up the street. He struggled not to sink into recharge. He was probably the only one of them with enough processor left to get them out and to their rooms. They were all incredibly slagged and it wouldn't do to offline in the lobby of the lodging where their new manager had booked them, or worse, the walkway out front.

     As if reading his processor, a soft beep sounded and the shiny black mech's voice said, “We will arrive at the lodging in approximately one breem.” The soft beep sounded again and the only sound in the transport was the heavy venting of all the mechs on board.

     Trying to keep himself awake, Megatron looked around blearily at his bandmates. Skywarp and Thundercracker were leaning against each other, optics flickering slowly. Skywarp caught his optics and smiled wide enough to almost split his face. “We're fraggin rockstars,” he whispered and promptly fell into recharge. Megatron tried not to laugh, he thought he might purge if he did. Rockstars.

     Rockstar Soundwave was curled up on the seat, his arms wrapped about his mid-section, venting slowly and deeply. Rockstar Starscream was sprawled in a completely undignified way on the floor of the transport, his legs and arms splayed wide. Not even his wings twitched. Megatron's optics ran over the jet's frame. A glint of light on his thighs caught his attention. At that, Megatron did chuckle but immediately regretted it as his visual feed flickered dangerously.

     He remembered what he had been doing with Starscream when the others had shown up. His cooling fans kicked on and he didn't care. And he remembered where his hand had been, too. He raised it to his face and vented his olfactory receptor over it. The faint tangy scent of lubrication reached his processor. He grinned an evil grin and slid his glossa over those fingers. He decided that was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Temperature warnings started flashing in his optics. The grin stayed where it was.

     Another soft beep interrupted his fantasies. “We have arrived.” A few nano-kliks later, the door opened and the night-cycle air rushed in. Megatron felt a little less fevered as the air ran over his frame. He nudged Starscream with his pede. Starscream turned his head away but didn't move otherwise. The silver mech nudged him harder. A blue hand swatted at him weakly. Always trouble with this Pit-spawned jet, he thought.

     He leaned over and tapped Soundwave on a pede. Soundwave's head lolled back but he noticed the open door, uncurled slowly and shuffled out. Next, he tapped the blue and purple seekers. They onlined their optics in unison. He tipped his head towards the door and they made their way to the door. Megatron exited the transport then reached back in and dragged Starscream out by his thrusters. The jet was a smaller mech but he was all dead weight. Megatron thought he was going to purge from the exertion.

     When Starscream was halfway out, Megatron decided he was done with the fragger. With one tremendous pull, the seeker slid out and landed on the walkway with a clang. He sat up immediately and opened his mouth to let loose with a screech, but his optics offlined and he slumped back down. Megatron just glared at him.

     “Sir,” the shiny black mech came closer with a tall red mech behind him. “Your friend seems ill. Do you require assistance?” Megatron almost sighed from relief.

     “If you don't mind. I'm...tired,” he said slowly.

     “Your rooms are prepared. The access codes are at the check-in. We will bring your friend,” the black mech said politely as he and the red mech hefted an unresponsive Starscream up between them.

     The Decepticons shuffled into the lodging and barely noticed the name on all the glass doors and definitely didn't notice the stunningly opulent lobby.

     An attractive mech the same color red as the doormech greeted Megatron politely and passed him the access codes to their rooms.

     Megatron grunted and shepherded his bandmates to the lift. He jabbed the call button and watched the floor readout impatiently. He definitely wasn't sobering up but he already felt like slag. The black and red mechs met up with them just as the lift doors opened. They all squeezed in. The conscious seekers didn't seem to notice the cramped quarters. Seekers were notoriously claustrophobic, but if they had so much as squeaked, Megatron would have pounded them into the floor.

     The lift pinged and stopped. Megatron strode out and then walked down the hall following the signs. He heard the muffled pedefalls behind him so he kept walking. Halfway down the hall, he came to the doors for their rooms. He handed one code to Soundwave and motioned to the two seekers who looked ready to collapse. Soundwave's visor blinked once.

     “I'll take the screamer. He's so far into recharge, he won't make a sound until half a day from now. If you stay up the rest of the night-cycle purging, I don't want to hear it.” He took the unconscious seeker from the black and red mechs, nodding in thanks.

     Megatron punched his code into the access panel then nodded to his bandmates as they entered their room. Soft lights came on as he entered his room. He stopped short as he glanced up. The room was almost palatial compared to the rust holes they had been staying in. The two berths were huge. He would have looked around more, but he was so desperate for recharge that he dumped Starscream on the nearest berth and threw himself into the other one.

     His optics offlined in ecstacy as his weight sank into the soft berth. He groaned as his frame relaxed into recharge. He groaned again as the taste of Starscream ghosted across his glossa.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have 16 chapters completed, so I will be posting them quickly to motivate myself to finish the final few chapters. Again, I hope you enjoyed. Comment and review if you please.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hungover Decepticons = ! or How Starscream Threw the Biggest Tantrum Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nothing explict, just a lot of Cybertronian swear words. And whiny over-grown sparklings.

     Pain. Pain and incredible pressure. Megatron didn't dare to twitch. He held still and tried to keep his venting even and steady. He didn't even want to boot his memory files from the last night-cycle. The silver mech knew he was hungover and he knew it was a hangover for the vorns. His processor ached, no, screamed but he didn't want to vent too hard lest it shatter.

     So he laid there quietly hoping that he would fall back into recharge and online later feeling better. The pain didn't lessen, but he soon felt his frame relaxing again. A sigh slipped out of his vocalizer before he realized it, but he was too far down for the pain to bring him back.

 

*****

 

     A sound. A harsh sound. An awful sound. Megatron groaned and his processor immediately sent a jolt of pain through his head. He bit his lip to keep from shouting. Struggling to calm his venting, Megatron onlined his optics.

     That awful sound that woke him up came again. He winced and even that hurt his head. It came from nearby. He lifted his head ever so slightly and looked around. His room was painted in various shades of blue. He looked down at the soft berth where he was struggling not to deactivate and it was a dark blue like the curtains on the windows.

     “Frag! Ah!” A pained shriek sounded followed by that harsh sound. Megatron saw an open door along the opposite wall. The sound and the shrieks were coming from in there. Rolling his head gently to the side, he looked at the berth next to his. It was identical but empty. He usually roomed with Soundwave but the drummer never made sounds like that.

     Whimpering began to come from the room so Megatron slowly got up from the berth. He wondered if he had a femme with him. They made awful noises sometimes. Every step was agony but he managed to make it to the doorway without collapsing. He peered in to see Starscream crumpled on the floor of the washrack, retching pitifully. Megatron didn't know whether to laugh and help him or just help him.

     “Screamer,” he said softly as much for his own processor as Starscream's.

     Angry red optics met his and the seeker's face twisted into a sneer, and then those optics promptly flickered and cycled. He slumped over and Megatron went to him, kneeling on the floor.

     “Screamer,” he repeated, putting a hand on the jet's arm. The optics flashed again but seemed much more miserable than angry.

     “How slagged are you?” Megatron asked.

     “So fraggin slagged. I can't even purge,” Starscream whispered.

     “Was that what that noise was?”

     A hiss.

     “I never room with you.”

     “Well, now you know,” the seeker snapped and his face twisted with pain.

     “I feel like worse slag than the time my brother got bonded and I ended up purging on his carrier's pedes after the ceremony.”

     A snicker and a wince. “On his bondmate's carrier's pedes?”

     “All over his high-credit upgrades. He was so fragged off and my brother was trying not to laugh his aft off as he dragged me away from him. He never liked that uppity fragger.”

     A smile. Megatron smiled back.

     “I didn't know you had a brother.”

     “I haven't seen him in vorns. He moved to work on a new mine and then he and his bondmate sparked. I get a comm from him for the new vorn and All Primes Day, but that's about it.”

     “I don't have any siblings.”

     “The stellarverse can only handle one mech like you, Screamer.”

     A snort. And another smile.

     “Anyway, you've got those trinemates.”

     “More like sparklings I need to watch constantly.”

     “They're alright.”

     Another snort. “Where are they?”

     “Room next door. With Soundwave.”

     “I don't even want to know.”

     “Hold on, let me boot my files from last night.”

     “No, don't. If I'm this slagged now, I can't even begin to imagine....” Starscream sighed and slumped back down on the floor.

     “We signed with a manager.” Starscream nodded. “He took us out to some fancy club.” Starscream's optics widened. “You ordered some industrial-strength high-grade and we pounded cubes until....”

     “Until what?” Starscream's optics narrowed and Megatron fought to override his cooling fans. Primus, he thought, what did they do?

     “Until we were almost too slagged to leave without being dragged out. Then we left and our manager's driver brought us here.”

     “Where is here?”

     “No idea. Too fragged up to notice where we went.” Megatron thought back to what really fragged him up and an image file he didn't even remember he had saved popped up: Starscream on his back in the transport and the glistening on his smooth white thighs. Megatron glanced down at his hand. Primus, he thought again, what did they do?

     “C'mon, Screamer,” he said standing, offering a hand to the seeker. Starscream grasped it and allowed Megatron to pull him to his thrusters. He wobbled slightly but caught himself.

     They left the washrack and Starscream squinted at the room. His vocalizer issued a whistle.

     “Fancy digs. The manager booked us here?” He moved to start shuffling through the desk in the corner. Megatron sat on his berth and watched him. The seeker suddenly spun with a digi-flyer in his hand, a look of triumph on his face and strong wobble in his stance. “Do you know where we are?”

     The silver mech shook his head.

     “This. Is. The. Four. Orbitals,” the jet whispered reverently. “Its the best on-world lodging chain!”

     Glancing around, Megatron thought the room was nice, but not all that great. The berth was amazing and he wished he'd been able to really enjoy it, but he was not impressed. His face must have showed how non-plussed he was because Starscream frowned and continued.

     “We're probably in a basic room, but I read in Luxury Digi-Monthly about the upper level rooms. They are to deactivate for!” The seeker almost swooned. “Every room has themed decorations and furnishings. They offer room service! And they have a spa!”

     Rubbing the back of his neck cables irritably, Megatron said, “That's nice, Screamer, but we're here as guests. You can't go around running up the tab. We haven't even played a paying gig for our manager. We don't even know if we are on the bill at the Audial yet.”

     “You aft. You have to spoil everything,” he hissed. He stumbled over to the curtains and rubbed the material in his servos. “I think this is organic.” He rubbed a handful on his face and sighed contentedly.

     Megatron watched him, somewhat amused. He continued watching as Starscream prowled shakily around the room, examining everything. He remembered that the seeker had graduated from the Iacon Science Academy. And now he was here with him in this room, touching, venting, examining everything with scientific precision.

     Still feeling exhausted, Megatron flopped back on the berth. He wiggled his frame a little to settle further down in the soft berth. He offlined his optics and thought to himself that he could get used to this. He heard Starscream move around a while longer and then heard muffled rustling on the berth next to him. He didn't even bother to look especially after he heard the seeker vent a long sigh.

     Breems passed as they lay there quietly. Then Starscream spoke in a small voice.

     “Do you think they'll make us leave today? We don't have to be in Helex until tomorrow.”

     “That means we need to leave early tomorrow. Very early.”

     “But can we stay here? I'm tired of the slagged up rust holes,” came the pathetic reply.

     “We've only been on the road for a quartex,” said Megatron, slightly exasperated.

     “I come from Vos where even the lowliest flier lives better than any other Cybertronian,” he declared. “I'm not used to this slag!”

     “Tough slag,” the silver mech replied unsympathetically. “Those 'rust holes' you hate so much are a million times better than the barracks I shared with a dozen other mechs in the mines.”

     Starscream didn't even bother with a worded vocalization. He simply started keening and kicking his thrusters on the berth.

     “Stop that,” Megatron growled. The keening increased in volume and his brutalized processor felt like it was going to shatter. “Stop that!” He rolled out of his berth with a speed he didn't think he possessed with a hangover as terrible as his and jammed a hand against the noisy seeker's neck cables. The keening stopped as Starscream's shuttered optics flew open.

     “Are you going to start that again if I let go?” Megatron asked in a dangerous voice.

     Starscream shook his head.

     “Okay,” and he slowly released the seeker's neck. A blue hand shot up to rub the cables. His optics narrowed.

     “I will comm down to the check-in desk and ask, but I promise nothing,” he warned. Starscream optics flashed gratefully.

     Picking up the digi-flyer next to the seeker, Megatron tossed it at him. Starscream caught it in mid-air. “Order some room service for both of us. I'm going to check on the other fraggers.”

     He left the room and pressed the buzzer at the other mechs' door. After a few nano-kliks, he pressed it again. He was about to press it third time when the door slid open. Soundwave's frame filled the doorway. “Megatron.”

     “How are you?”

     “Status: better. Recharge: sufficient.” He stepped back to let Megatron in. The other two seekers were tangled together on the far berth, venting slow and steady. Satisfied, he turned to his friend.

     “Have you fueled?”

     “Negative. Tank: still feels slagged.”

     “I really can't believe you. Some fizzy stuff and a shot of whatever that red stuff was and you were down,” Megatron chided.

     “Systems: unused to such strong high-grade.” If he was embarrassed, Megatron couldn't tell.

     “Yeah, whatever. When do you think these fraggers are going to online?” he asked, gesturing to the tangled seekers.

     “Estimate: one joor.”

     “Good. Screamer's ordering some room service for us. Get something for yourself. You look like slag.” He smiled as Soundwave's visor pulsed twice acknowledging the joke. “Also, Screamer threw a royal fit when he thought we were going to have to leave soon so I said I'd comm down to the desk and see what Shockwave set up for us. I'll comm you when I know.”

     Soundwave nodded. Megatron turned and let himself out of the room. Before he entered the room he shared with Starscream, he stopped to comm the check-in desk to confirm their reservation. Shockwave had booked them for two night-cycles and Megatron marveled at his efficiency.

     Before closing the commlink, the service mech transmitted a message from the purple mech regarding their transportation to Helex. Megatron chuckled to himself as he stepped into his room and found Starscream sitting contentedly in his berth, beaming like a youngling.

     “What's going on?” he asked suspiciously.

     “Nothing,” the seeker shrugged and then his optics flared. “Wait til you see what I ordered!”

     “I told you not to...,” Megatron growled, advancing on the seeker.

     “Oh shut up, you walking pile of scrap,” Starscream sneered. “I didn't go overboard. But they have everything here!”

     Megatron gritted his denta and went to lay on his berth.

     “What about TC and Warp?”

     “Still in recharge.”

     “Hmm. Lazy afts.”

     “I'd still be in recharge if you hadn't onlined me with all your fraggin screeches.”

     “I was suffering.”

     “I'm sure. By the way, the front desk said we're reserved until early tomorrow.” A delighted squeal was the reply.

     “And we're getting a new transport cruiser to take us to Helex.”

     Megatron was jolted when an excited seeker crashed into him. He thrashed as he tried to get a grip on the other mech's sleek frame.

     “Slag! Are you glitched?” he shouted right into Starscream's audials. The jet winced and drew back.

     “You didn't have to fry my audials, rust-aft,” he whined. “I'm just so glad not to have to ride in that abomination of patched metal you got for us.”

     “You are so ungrateful,” Megatron snarled as he shoved the jet off his frame and onto the floor. The seeker popped back up immediately and leaned over Megatron with his fists on his hips.

     “You had to kick it to get it to start!” he shrieked. “And remember the time it broke down halfway to Altihex? If it wasn't for Soundwave doing an emergency repair, we wouldn't have made it to the show!”

     Megatron rolled away from his inflamed bandmate. “Fine, it was a piece of scrap. But its gone now. Gone. So put your sorry aft back in that berth before I decide to stomp it.” He heard the jet vent indignantly and the thump of him sitting back in the berth.

     Sighing, Megatron offlined his optics and just relished the silence. His hangover was receding and after a few more joors and some fresh fuel, he'd probably feel fine again. Just as his processor was slowing down, that image file popped up. He did nothing for a klik. He wasn't sure he wanted to see it again. It was probably better if he didn't. Especially not with the subject of that image file sitting not three meters from him. He grit his denta. Oh, what the Pit.

     He opened the file and there was Starscream in all his gleaming, recharging glory. He knew the silly glitch was appealing, but his personality subroutine was so defective, he never spent much time analyzing his build. He zoomed in on the slackened face; the arch of his optic ridges; the slant of his nasal bridge; smooth gray cheeks; those full lips.

     Megatron wished Starscream had been online so he could see the blaze in his optics. There had been a few times during shows when he'd caught the jet's optics and it had been like staring into two red suns. He hadn't faltered with the lyrics, but he was always left feeling like he would have been swallowed by that red light if he had stopped.

     He traveled further down Starscream's frame. The shiny golden-yellow glass of his canopy; those expressive white wings. Megatron shivered a little when thought of how those wings had fluttered against him last night-cycle. It was like a spark on Starscream's back, they felt so alive.

     A video file popped up and Megatron had to override a hitch in his venting. He didn't dare. Even as he thought to himself how much he didn't dare, the video began streaming. He frantically tried to override it and shut it down. He heard his cooling fans hitch and he sent overrides to them as well. Video Starscream moaned and Megatron prayed to Primus to deactivate him right that nano-klik because his processor was obviously perma-glitched by the high-grade at the Aileron.

     A short buzz at the door brought Megatron back to reality. Starscream leapt from his berth and bounded to the door, pinging it open with a squeal. Megatron sat up and watched the red service mech wheel a small cart into the room. The seeker danced around, wings fluttering wildly.

     “Now let me see what you ordered before you shove it all down your intake,” he said as he elbowed the seeker away.

     “I ordered enough for you, too!” the seeker shouted, elbowing his way back in.

     Megatron picked up a cube of energon and vented his olfactory receptors over it. Very pure, not high-grade but it was too early for that and after last night-cycle, he wasn't sure he ever wanted anymore. He took a tentative sip and nodded to himself. Very good stuff.

     He moved the cube away from the still dancing seeker and used his free hand to rustle the other containers.

     “Hey! Let me divide it up before you get your grubby hands in everything!” Starscream whined as he tried to hip-check the larger mech away from the cart.

     Megatron didn't budge from the sharp movement, but moved away anyway chuckling to himself. He stood there sipping his energon, watching the seeker examine everything.

     Biting his lower lip, Starscream started carefully moving some containers to one side of the cart and some to the other. He picked up two identical boxes, peeked inside them and then switched them. After two more switches, Megatron lost his smile. He prepared to launch a fist right in Starscream's face when Starscream stepped back and announced that the smaller grouping of containers was Megatron's.

     Stalking over, Megatron picked up a box. He looked at the seeker with wide optics.

     “Rust sticks?”

     “That brand is the best on Cyberton!” he stated proudly.

     Picking up another smaller box, he read the label. “What is this? Oil drops?”

     “You will not believe how good those are! I haven't had any in vorns!” The jet stopped to open an identical box and cram a few in his mouth.

     “So all you ordered was sweets?” Megatron asked, pointing to the other boxes.

     “Yeah,” the seeker nodded around his mouthful of oil drops. “I'm hungover halfway to the Pit. It makes me feel better.”

     “Did you stop to think that you're a grown mech and shouldn't be eating this slag?”

     “Go frag yourself,” the jet mumbled gathering his share of boxes in his arms and flopping down on the berth. “You can't even get some of this at the commissary at the Royal Tower in Vos.”

     A youngling, Megatron thought; he had just authorized a huge contract to tour the stellar system playing in a rock band with a youngling. He couldn't wait to see Starscream's additions to their gig riders. Rust sticks and oil drops and...he flicked open a box...energon “crunchies.” Dear Primus, this mech was glitched.

     And Megatron so wanted to frag him. His jaw dropped. Then he shook his head. He looked up from all the sweets the seeker had ordered and found himself greedily drinking up the sight of Starscream's back strut and aft. The jet was lazily kicking his thrusters in the air, his wings flicking slowly. Megatron could hear him crunching on something, probably a rust stick. The silver mech turned away and hastily drank from his cube. That made him feel better. He hadn't had any good fuel in a few deca-cycles.

     Then, he could have sworn to Primus that he heard Starscream moan. He spun back around on his heel but the jet was still in the same position, still crunching away, completely oblivious to Megatron's impending meltdown. Megatron took another long swallow from his cube, his optics never leaving Starscream's frame. He finished the cube and set it down on the cart. He went to his berth and settled back on it.

     It was just this hangover from the Pit, he told himself. A joor of recharge would help, give him time to integrate the energon he just drank. He thought back to that reddish energon he'd been going cube for cube with Starscream. Even the barracks brews in the mines didn't burn like that slag. Thundercracker had been right. It came from the Unmaker himself. Never again, Megatron swore to himself.

     A ping told him a file had popped up. That video file. His spark lurched in a panic. What was wrong with him? He shoved it back down into his memory archive. He should just delete it, he told himself. But he couldn't. If he never touched Starscream again, he would at least have that video. He was about to do something drastic when a purple flash lit up their dim room. Skywarp and Thundercracker leapt onto Starscream's berth and hugged him. Their trineleader snarled and threw his arms around his hoard of sweets.

     “Screamer! We're so glad you didn't deactivate!” Skywarp crowed.

     “Why would I,” he sneered around a rust stick.

     “You were so slagged, Megatron had to kick you to get you into the transport last night-cycle,” Thundercracker explained.

     “He what?” Starscream whispered furiously, his narrowed optics turning to burn into Megatron's.

     “Right in the plating and then right in the aft!” Skywarp cackled.

     “You!” the jet jabbed a finger at the silver mech. “You kicked me?”

     Megatron stood to his full height, back strut straight, and powered up his vocalizer to shout down the angry seeker but all the energon smears around the jet's mouth made him roar with laughter instead.

     All three seekers looked at each like their band leader had blown a chip.

     Megatron wrapped his arms around himself and kept howling.

     “Megz,” Skywarp said knowing how much Megatron hated that secondary designation.

     That didn't stop the laughter, but Megatron did clear his processor long enough to point to his mouth and then point at Starscream. Then he crashed back on his aft.

     The blue and purple seekers turned to look at their trineleader and saw what Megatron was laughing at. Skywarp fell backward off the berth howling just as loud as Megatron. Thundercracker had more sense than to join in, but he did smile and take a soft mesh out of sub-space to wipe Starscream's mouth.

     The angry jet sputtered and swatted at his trinemate's hand.

     “What are you doing, you glitch?” he screeched, the final word reaching an unholy pitch.

     “Star,” Thundercracker purred soothingly, reaching for Starscream's mouth again. “Just let me do this.”

     Another angry swat pushed the offending hand away. Starscream glared suspiciously at the other mechs in the room. Shoving Thundercracker back, the jet got off the berth and stomped into the washrack. A shriek shot out of the room and the door shut.

     Skywarp and Megatron somehow laughed even harder from their places on the floor. Thundercracker sighed. It was funny but not that funny. Now he had to talk his outraged trineleader out of the washrack. It could take joors and this was not how he wanted to spend them.

     He knocked softly on the door. “Star, its TC. Open up.”

     “No! Not while they're still laughing at me!”

     Turning to glare at the two mechs in question, Thundercracker crossed his arms over his cockpit. After a klik or two, the gale of laughter subsided. Megatron was venting hard and as Skywarp peeked over the berth, he hiccuped. Megatron slapped his face and started laughing again. Skywarp hiccuped again but just couldn't laugh anymore.

     “Megatron. I swear to Primus....” Thundercracker started to threaten. The silver mech's vents stalled as he tried to control himself. He knew Starscream would just grow more inconsolable the longer he laughed. Finally, he was down to chuckles. He bit his lip and nodded to Thundercracker.

     “Alright, Star,” he called. “They're not laughing anymore. You can come out.”

     “But I'm humiliated!”

     “Star, its just us. We don't care about dumb slag like that.”

     “I looked like a fool!”

     “We were all majorly slagged last orn. It doesn't matter.”

     “But he kicked me.”

     “So? You shoulda seen Warp dancing.”

     A snicker. “Was it awful?”

     “So awful, if you watched him for more then ten nano-kliks, you got teleported to the Pit.”

     “TC!”

     “Shut up, Warp. You know how you look when you dance!”

     “TC.”

     “Enough! Star? You gonna come out now?”

     “I want an apology!” Thundercracker ran a hand down his face. He would be here for _days_.

     “Star, just come out. We'll talk.”

     “Apology or nothing! I brought my sweets with me!” Looking to Megatron, Thundercracker pled silently with his optics. Megatron smirked and Thundercracker wanted to kick him.

     “Honestly, Star, its not a big deal.”

     “My honor is a huge deal to me!” The blue jet leaned his head against the door, barely reigning in the desire to bash his head against it instead. He pivoted to glare at Megatron again. The former miner looked away feigning innocence.

     “Your honor has not been tarnished.”

     “That ugly glitch kicked me and then he made fun of me for eating rust sticks!”

     “Why are you eating rust sticks?” Skywarp shouted from the floor.

     “Because I'm hungover!” came the answer.

     “Is that why you're acting like this? You're hungover?” Thundercracker asked.

     “Yes! I feel like slag!”

     “Have you fueled up today?”

     A long pause. “No, just energon sweets.”

     “Oh, Star. You need good fuel or you're gonna feel bad all day.” Megatron was suddenly at his shoulder, pushing a cube of energon into his hand. Surprised, Thundercracker took it. “I've got some here.” He sniffed it. “Good stuff!”

     “Is it just you?” Thundercracker waved Megatron back.

     “Yeah, its just me.” The door slid open. Two red optics studied him from the edge of the doorframe for a moment and then he was pulled in by a blue hand. The door shut again. Starscream stood there, mouth now clean. Thundercracker offered him the cube. The red jet snatched it and drank it down.

     “Will you come out now?” the blue seeker asked.

     “I don't know,” his trineleader said, striking up a defiant pose.

     “What is the problem now?”

     “Megatron is such a slag-head.”

     “What's new about that?”

     “Nothing, I guess.”

     “Exactly, he'll always be a slag-head so you just have to ignore him.” Thundercracker started tracing patterns on Starscream's wing and the red jet visibly relaxed.

     “He just makes me so mad,” he pouted.

     “He makes all of us mad.”

     “I wish I hadn't authorized that contract. Now I'll be stuck with him for ever.”

     “Star, the Decepticons is his band. He hired us,” Thundercracker tried to sound reasonable.

     “But I made us.”

     “No one is denying your talent. You're the best guitarist I've ever seen.” Starscream perked up at that. “But he is a big draw, too.” Starscream harrumphed. “C'mon, Star. Just come out. He'll be nice to you. He needs you. He....”

     Megatron, who was eavesdropping at the door with his audials turned up to full, pulled back. Thundercracker's deep voice echoed in his processor, 'He needs you.' There was so much truth to that statement and Megatron wanted to deny all of it. He shuffled back to his berth and sat down heavily. Skywarp had been watching from the floor.

     “What's going on?”

     “TC's got him. He'll be out any nano-klik now.” No sooner had he finished speaking, the washrack door slid open and the two seekers stepped out. Skywarp bounced up and over to his trinemates and wrapped them in his purple arms. Starscream slowly lifted his arms and hugged his trinemates back. Megatron felt something just then, but he denied the sensation and buried it down in his processor.

     Instead, he snatched two rust sticks from the open box on the cart and approached the seekers. They looked up when they felt his cycled air hit their wings. Starscream looked up last, his optics exhausted. Megatron held out a rust stick. The jet looked at it for a few nano-kliks, then took it and stuck it in his mouth. Megatron did the same thing and then went to sit down again.

     “You know, these aren't so bad.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well we're movin on up,  
> To the east sector.  
> To a deluxe hab-suite in the sky....
> 
> A short chapter of silliness with a hint of something to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: nothing explicit. Cybertronian cussing and the usual defective personality sub-routines you've come to know and love.

     A joor later, all the Decepticons were gathered in Megatron and Starscream's room. The silver mech had commed Soundwave about the rooms and when the mech arrived a klik later, he shared the full message with all of them. Skywarp and Thundercracker had high-fived. Soundwave's visor pulsed to show how pleased he was. Megatron and Starscream sat on their respective berths, sucking on rust sticks.

     The seekers were chattering excitedly when Megatron's commlink pinged. He held up a hand and the room fell into silence as he answered the ping.

     It was Shockwave, sounding flatly enthusiastic while he issued a list of demands for the Audial performance. The silver mech listened intently and when the comm-link closed, Megatron sighed.

     The seekers immediately began shouting over each other trying to get details. He held up a hand again, the jets slowly quieting down.

     “One: the new transport is downstairs.” Excited cheering.

     “Two: we need to design a logo for our new merch.” Less cheering.

     “Three: we are locked into the show at the Audial.” More cheering.

     “Four: we have to have a new song ready to debut at the Audial.” No cheering.

     “Ugly demanding freak,” muttered Starscream around a fresh rust stick.

     “That freak wants your new song debuted at the Audial,” Megatron clarified and the jet perked up. “The new song you told him about last night-cycle.”

     “Oh, that one. Its not ready,” the seeker said quietly.

     “But Screamer, you said it was the best ever!” Skywarp said.

     “It is! But its just not ready!” he shot back, his wings hitching up his back strut.

     “How's it not ready, Star?” Thundercracker asked, a gentle hand on his trineleader's arm.

     “Its just not,” he replied. “We'll have to do something else.”

     “Whatever we do, we need a new song,” Megatron stated. “Shockwave said it needed to be a 'strut-cruncher.'”

     “Well, that's definitely not what I wrote,” Starscream groused.

     “Moving on. A logo,” Megatron said. “Who can sketch?” The jets just stared at him. Soundwave was silent, too.

     “Soundwave, what about you?”

     “Skill level: simple vectors.”

     “That's better than the rest of us fraggers. You're on logo duty.” Soundwave nodded. “And get a song or two from our set last night-cycle up on the Yox.” Soundwave nodded again. He was in charge of editing and uploading the videos and audio he and his cassettes recorded of every live Decepticon perfomance to Cybertron's datanet.

     “Meeting adjourned. Let's go take a look at that transport!” They all leapt to their pedes and hurried out into the hall. Once crammed into the lift, the seekers started squirming and flicking their wings nervously.

     “Its only five levels,” Megatron growled.

     “But its so small in here,” Skywarp whined, his wings fluttering faster.

     “And its stuffy!” shrilled Starscream.

     “Then stop venting so hard!” Megatron shouted. “Look, one floor to go...and here we are, you sparklings!” As doors opened, the seekers stampeded out in a fit of spastic wings.

     “The transport dock is this way!” Skywarp called, already hurrying in that direction with the other jets close behind. The two larger mechs continued at a leisurely pace.

     “An excitable bunch, aren't they?” he asked his drummer.

     “Affirmative: seeker coding much more volatile.”

     “But they rock so hard.”

     “Affirmative: volatility lends itself to musical performance.”

     “What do you think that slag about Screamer's new song is?” Megatron asked, truly curious.

     “Status: incomplete.”

     “I know that, but why? That silly glitch wrote half the songs in our set in a deca-cycle.”

     “Theory: composition coming from a more spark-based place.”

     “Spark-based? You mean he's finally putting some effort into a song and not just slapping some slag together?”

     “Affirmative. Seeker searches for deeper meaning within his expression.”

     “Interesting. That slag he slaps together is brilliant anyway. 'Civil War' is probably our best song.”

     “Analysis: 'Civil War' is twenty percent more popular than next popular song.”

     “Your processor just amazes me sometimes. Being a drummer, you know.”

     “Drumming: requires precision and timing.”

     “Indeed it does, friend. Here we are. I can hear the riot already,” Megatron said as he pushed open the glass doors into the dock. Shouts rang all throughout, echoing back on themselves. The two mechs headed in the direction of the noise.

     Starscream and Thundercracker were bouncing around a huge black transport cruiser while Skywarp teleported randomly in flashes of purple light. Upon closer examination, it was new. They popped open the back doors and crowded around to look inside. Their equipment was stacked more carefully than they ever managed, but the battered second-hand cases looked terrible inside the vehicle which gleamed from every angle. Megatron quickly shut the doors before their moods could dampen.

     He circled around to the passenger door and after pressing a few buttons along the frame, managed to open them. Skywarp tried to dive in, but Thundercracker caught him.

     “Are your thrusters clean?”

     “TC! Who cares! Let me go!” Skywarp struggled, but not too valiantly.

     “We care because this is brand new and its ours!” He put the purple jet down and pointed at his thrusters. The teleporter obediently knocked them together. Satisfied, Thundercracker nodded and Skywarp threw his entire frame inside in one huge leap. “Primus!” he wailed.

     “Warp? What happened?” Megatron leaned in the door, concern on his face.

     “Its just so beautiful,” the purple jet moaned, shuttering his optics.

     Starscream laughed rudely and stepped up into the transport. His blue trinemate followed as did Megatron and Soundwave. But it was beautiful. Every surface shone. Behind the pilot's compartment, there were several cushioned benches. Large enough that even Megatron and Soundwave could sit comfortably. A small table was bolted to one wall with two more benches. An energon dispenser was included as well as a good sized dry storage unit.

     Skywarp stopped at the energon dispenser and ran his hand along it lovingly. “We could fill it with high-grade,” he said dreamily.

     “Shut up, frag-face,” Starscream growled as he stalked past. He opened a door, looked in and his knees buckled. “Its a dry washrack!” he shrieked as he jumped inside.

     “A dry what? How does that work?” Thundercracker asked as the Decepticons clustered around the door.

     Starscream stopped sniffing solvents and polishes to explain. “These are heat-activated solvents. You rub them on and the friction from your hand bonds them to your plating. Then you push a button and heat vents melt them until they run off. Then you're clean.” He picked up a tin and gasped, clutching it to his cockpit. “This is the polish the Vosian Royal Guard uses! By Primus, I said that mech was an Knight of Cybertron!”

     The Decepticons lost interest as Starscream kept gasping over the various tins and moved further into the transport. The aisle narrowed as four berths lined it, two to a side, one up, one down.

     Thundercracker pressed a hand into the berth. “These are as good as the ones in our rooms!”

     “But there are only four!” Skywarp chimed.

     Megatron punched a button and opened a door at the end of the aisle which he walked through. The band filed into the room. An extra wide berth sat against the far wall, a desk with chair and a smaller energon dispenser were on one side and several mirrored panels lined the other.

     “Who's gonna recharge here?” Thundercracker asked. Rapid thruster-falls came down the aisle and Starscream barreled into the room, his optics searching the room possessively.

     “This is my room!” he declared.

     “No, its not,” Megatron growled.

     “Oh, so you want it for yourself? You greedy, selfish, untalented...,” Starscream bellowed, puffing himself up as he stepped closer to Megatron.

     Megatron shoved him right in the canopy, laughing when the seeker landed on his aft. “No, I don't want it for myself. We can take turns.”

     Starscream had righted himself. Crossing his arms over his canopy, he shouted, “I'm not sharing my room with any of you!”

     “We're going to be on the road non-stop from here on out. The berths out there are long enough for me and Soundwave and wide enough for all you seekers.”

     “Did you hear what I said?” The red seeker's wings flapped aggressively.

     “I don't give a frag what you said,” Megatron stepped to loom over the smaller mech. “I'll strap you to the roof of this thing if you don't follow the rules. You can yell til your vocalizer shorts out up there. This is what is happening.”

     Outraged, Starscream spun on his thruster and looked at his trinemates. “You agree to this slag?” he demanded.

     “Screamer, its not so bad. TC checked out the other berths; they're really nice,” Skywarp offered. The red jet huffed and glared at Thundercracker who shrugged. “I'm not even going to ask you,” he snarled, pointing at Soundwave. “Your intake has been stuck to his aft for vorns.” Soundwave didn't even acknowledge the insult with a pulse of his visor. Instead, he turned to Megatron and said, “Transport: satisfactory. Suggestion: let's not trash it.”

     Megatron laughed. He clapped a hand on Soundwave's back strut and guided him out of the room. The drummer's visor was pulsing rapidly as they left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Megz laughing and Soundwave cracking "jokes?" Seems OOC, but we're getting a little look at how they might have been without the Great War driving them all insane. At least we can count on a certain Seeker to always play the demanding diva, right? Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron considers his "Starscream problem," and things get a little heated. And the march to the Battle of Iacon begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: explicit sticky content, but its short so Squint 'n' Scroll if that's not your thing. More swearing, and mention of almost (typical MxSS) violence.
> 
> Enjoy!

     An insistent ping which grew louder with each pulse brought Megatron out of recharge. It wasn't his personal commlink. He was confused. Onlining his options, he looked around. A blue light on the wall next to his berth pulsed with each ping. As loud hissing filled the room, he slapped at the light.

     It was the wake-up call he ordered the previous night-cycle.

     Frag, he thought, he felt like slag. Glaring at the shadowy frame a few meters from him, he blamed his exhaustion on the seeker currently trying to sink back into recharge. He'd thrown at least four tantrums the previous day.

     During the final argument, the entire band had had to restrain him from ripping Starscream into pieces. He'd snarled so viciously as he tried to force his way across the room that even the relentlessly obnoxious seeker had quailed and tried to shrink into the wall.

     Frame overheating with the force of his rage, Megatron had yelled, “You pushed me too far this orn, you worthless aerial!” and shrugged off all the straining frames holding him back. He had glanced over his shoulder as he stalked off to see how his words had cut the seeker.

     It almost made his spark falter.

     “Aerial” was an unconscionable insult among the flight-capable. TC and Warp had been shocked but it seemed they understood their temperamental bandleader had been goaded one too many times that orn by their even more temperamental trineleader. Pit, even they were tired of his fits.

     But the hurt he'd seen in the optics of the red jet...it almost wasn't worth the cheap shot. Almost. He grunted, tilted his face up and went to sit on the far side of his berth. He hummed to himself while he tried not to overhear the seekers murmuring soothing words to their trineleader.

     He caught a few things: “He didn't mean it.” “We all know you're a stellar flier.” “He's just a cranky old rust-bucket.” That one made him wince, but he let it go. He knew TC and Warp respected him and were just catering to that overgrown sparkling.

     When he heard a choked sob, his shoulders slid from their proud height and he put his head in his hands. His spark soared with hope when a hand tapped lightly on his shoulder. Soundwave tilted his head towards the door and Megatron nodded. They left quietly but the silver mech couldn't resist glancing at the pile of seekers huddled on the floor. The proud white wings that fascinated him so much were sagging against the wall propping up the frame they belonged to, quivering slightly.

     Soundwave led him down to a bar off the lobby, and after ordering, they sat in silence for several breems. Megatron glanced at Soundwave a few times and it seemed that the mech was looking at him expectantly even with his visor in place. He powered up his vocalizer several times to explain, but he didn't even know what he was going to explain.

     Finally, defeated, he said, “That little glitch drives me crazy.”

     “Observation: correct.”

     “Did you bring me here to mock me?”

     “Negative. Suggestion: vent frustration. Situation: critical.”

     “Critical, huh? We only formed the Decepticons six quartexes ago.”

     “Prognosis: twenty percent chance of remaining together to complete tour, zero percent to record album.” Megatron whistled.

     “And we just authorized that contract with Shockwave. The show at the Audial,” he groaned.

     “Contract deactivation: we're fragged.”

     “Really?”

     “Status: Shockwave owns our afts.”

     “What? Why didn't you tell me this before?”

     “Analysis at time of authorization: eighty-five percent chance of completing tour and album.”

     “What got so fragged up in the last two orns?”

     “Conflict: Megatron and Starscream both seek to lead Decepticons.”

     “That's always been obvious. What changed?”

     “Starscream: believes he is the reason for contract.”

     “Oh, that over-blown pretentious piece of scrap.”

     “Starscream: believes new material he has been writing will lead to greater success.”

     “So why doesn't he show it to us? We've always written together as a band.”

     “Starscream: doesn't think you will appreciate it.”

     “What? Is he writing power ballads or something?”

     “Data: inconclusive.”

     “That doesn't help!” Megatron rested his hand over his face.

     “Suggestion: convince Starscream to show you new material.”

     “And just how do I do that? I called him an aerial! He'll never look me in the optics again!”

     “Suggestion: apologize.” Megatron scoffed.

     “If you think for one nano-klik that I'm...,” he started.

     “Soundwave: opinion unimportant. Priority: not getting deactivated by Shockwave's agents.”

     Megatron's mouth dropped open. “They'd deactivate us?”

     “Affirmative. Shockwave: not a mech to frag around with.”

     “I can't believe you didn't...,” but Soundwave cut him off again.

     “Repeat: Analysis at time of authorization: eighty-five percent chance of completing tour and album.”

     “So I'd better get up there and kiss his sorry red aft?”

     “Suggestion: use glossa.” Megatron gaped for a few nano-kliks then threw back his head and laughed.

     “If I hadn't known you for vorns, I'd think you were serious.” He reached across the table and gripped the other mech's hand. “I have always been glad that I could count on a mech like you.”

     Soundwave's visor pulsed in appreciation.

     When they had returned to their rooms after a few joors of more light-sparked conversation, all the seekers were deep in recharge. He watched Starscream vent quietly for a few kliks. Even in recharge, his wings twitched enticingly and Megatron's hands ached to touch them again. He remembered how Starscream had reacted when he caressed them at the Aileron. He'd briefly had a few seeker lovers in his earlier vorns so he was familiar with the sensitivity of their wings. But none of them had been like Starscream. He vented a deep sigh and froze when Starscream murmured softly.

     Deciding to give up his vigil, he'd crept to his berth and laid down.

     Now it was still early in the day and he had to gather up his faction and get them on the road to Helex. He glanced over again at the recharging jet's back-strut. Megatron cycled his optics slowly and got up from the berth. He entered the washrack, allowing the door to shut before hitting the lights, wincing when they came on and strode towards the solvent nozzle.

     He couldn't even remember the last time he'd cleaned himself in a proper washrack. Before this tour. He grimaced at the amount of grime that he'd probably accumulated on his plating. This might turn into a serious chore. He adjusted the solvent temperature to high. Sighing into the hotter rush of liquid, Megatron began working the solvent into his plating.

     After a klik of scrubbing, his processor drifted to the problem with Starscream. As his frustration rose, he scrubbed harder, building a heavy lather. He imagined the new argument with his moody guitarist, and the sneer that would twist that dark face into something harsh and ugly. How his wings would be held wide in defiance, twitching angrily. Then Megatron imagined himself sliding a hand across those wings, watching them flutter shyly. He saw how that sneer would dissolve into a smile. At him, because of him. Megatron.

     His spark swirled when he thought of their lips pressed together. Then Megatron surprised himself by groaning out loud. Shaken from his reverie under the solvent, he found his hands had drifted to his spike housing. A smirk spread on his face and he began to rub more insistently as he returned to his Starscream dream.

     This time, Megatron opened his video file from the night-cycle at the Aileron. When the seeker began grinding against his lap, he felt his spike extend slowly. He gripped it and began to pump in time to dream Starscream's movements. When he reached the point where they had been interrupted by Skywarp's teleport, he disengaged the video and seamlessly took up his fantasy.

     He rocked a moaning Starscream off his lap and onto the low table. The jet landed with a thud, Megatron sliding to his knees behind him, one hand pressing against his back strut between his wing joints, spreading his thighs with the other. The jet wriggled deliciously and Megatron growled his approval. Starscream's wings tensed high off his back-strut when the larger mech reached between the seeker's thighs and rubbed insistently at the hot panel again.

     Feeling the panel retract, the silver mech growled again and traced a finger around the rim of Starscream's wet valve. As the white wings began to flutter wildly, Megatron compulsively clamped a hand on the leading edge. With a hard squeeze to that same wing, he slipped a finger inside the jet's valve. A ragged gasp was accompanied by the screech of metal as Starscream clawed at the table beneath him.

     With another squeeze to the wing in his hand, Megatron slipped another finger inside the seeker and worked his valve in earnest. Starscream's moans were growing louder and more desperate. He arched with Megatron's hardest thrust and shot a burning glance back at the silver mech.

     His desperation growing, too, Megatron aligned his spike with Starscream's valve. The contact had the seeker grinding against his hips. Moving the hand from Starscream's back strut to his hip, he gripped it tightly. Shuttering his optics, Megatron pushed his hips forward as he pulled Starscream backward.

     The mounting excitement of his frame almost brought Megatron back to the washroom, and he threw his processor back into his fantasy violently.

     The heat and slickness of Starscream's valve was maddening. Every slide in was delicious and Megatron could barely control his rising pleasure. The vibrations of his roaring cooling fans hummed through his burning frame. The seeker was rocking back to meet each of his thrusts, his harsh vocalizations dissolving further and further into static.

     Megatron finally gave up trying to hold back and rode the jet like his desire rode him. After a particularly vicious thrust, he felt the frame beneath him seize in overload and the valve around his spike clenched him in a series of contractions. The pressure around his spike was nearly painful for those few nano-kliks and that sent Megatron blazing into his own overload.

     Back in the washrack, Megatron collapsed against the wall, one arm bracing him as spasms of pleasure rolled over his frame. He wasn't sure if he'd cried out so he held still and listened for any reaction. Hearing nothing, he vented deeply and allowed himself to sag in the hot solvent spray. If the seeker in the room outside was anything like the mech in his fantasy, Megatron had to have him. His spark flared as a possessive need filled him mingling with the echoes of his overload, leaving him feeling a little over-energized.

     Shakily, he straightened and sloughed all the remaining lather off his frame. He turned the spray off and went to stand under the dryer vent. In half a klik, he was dry and feeling much calmer. Looking at his reflection, Megatron put on a smile. He'd have that seeker, he told himself and his optics blazed.

     Stepping out of the washrack into the dimly lit room, he caught two bright red optics staring at him from the other berth.

     “Good-day, Starscream,” he said lightly, his smile still in place.

     “I hope you didn't use all the hot solvent,” was the annoyed reply. “I stink.”

     “There should be plenty still,” he said, his smile sharpening slightly because the jet was actually talking to him.

     “We'll see,” the seeker muttered as he stalked past and shut the door. Megatron heard the spray start after a few nano-kliks. He opened a commlink to Soundwave to arrange their departure in half a joor.

     Feeling quite generous, he walked down to the small commissary and got two cubes of energon for himself and Starscream. He had just set the other cube down on the desk when he heard the spray cut off. He knocked softly on the door.

     “We're meeting the others at the transport dock in three breems,” he called.

     An angry hiss came through the door. Then he heard the dryer vents power up. Soon, they powered down and the door slid open. He stepped back and gestured to the cube he'd brought up. Starscream took it, squinted at it, sniffed it, then gulped it down. Putting the empty cube down, his optics searched Megatron's face.

     “Why are you smiling like that?”

     “I feel good. Today starts a new adventure for all of us. Aren't you excited?”

     “Not as long as I have to suffer the presence of a hulking rust-heap that called me...called me...you know what you said!” he said accusingly.

     “Starscream, I'm...very sorry...about that.” Megatron felt like he was choking on the words, but he continued. “It was a cheap shot. I was tired of arguing with you and I went for the cheap shot,” he said, sounding – and strangely – feeling genuinely sorry.

     “It was the most horrible thing any mech has ever said to me,” the seeker finally said after a long pause.

     “It was uncalled for. You're not a worthless...you know what. You're a valuable member of the Decepticons, a mech I'm proud to perform alongside,” he said slowly.

     If it hadn't been for the incremental raising of his wings, Megatron would have thought his words were falling on muted audials. Encouraged, the silver mech traced a single pattern on the seeker's wing that he knew would communicate his regret. Starscream looked startled, but nodded.

     “C'mon, let's head downstairs. Who said we couldn't be early?” the larger mech said soothingly. They left the room with a box of Starscream's last box of rust sticks tucked under the seeker's arm. It was a silent ride down the elevator, the jet doing his best not to start venting harshly.

     The two Decepticons continued into the dock and stopped at their new transport. Megatron pinched at a seam in his arm and twisted. No, he wasn't having a data-flux; this was real. He almost let out a shout, but it was too early in the day for that kind of noise. Starscream leaned against the transport, a rust stick bobbing between his lips as he chewed.

     “About that new song, Starscream,” he prompted.

     Starscream shot him a dismissive look and went back to worrying his sweet. Undeterred, Megatron added, “Soundwave thinks its gonna be something different for the Decepticons.”

     Cycled his optics were the reply.

     “Different and amazing. Its too bad we won't have it ready for the Audial.”

     The seeker took the bait. “How would he know what I'm doing? Not that it won't be amazing, it already is, but what does that glitched up voyeur know?”

     “You'd be surprised. Soundwave is a very observant mech. For a drummer,” Megatron teased.

     “He keeps the beat. I just wish I could see his face. I bet he's hideous.”

     “You'd be surprised there, too.” He seen Soundwave's face a few times. He wasn't bad to look at. “Anyway, we've got a breem, play me your new song.”

     “You wouldn't even understand,” the seeker muttered.

     “Try me. All the songs you wrote for the Decepticons drive the crowd out of their processors. We need to show up the Autobots.”

     That seemed to be the magic access code because Starscream walked around to the back of the transport without a word, popped the doors and dug his guitar out. He jacked it into his practice power supply and speaker. Megatron stepped up just in time to hear him whisper, “I'll show those Autobots how to rock.” Sitting on the bumper of the transport, he strummed a few chords. He glared up at Megatron and said, “Try to follow along.”

     He lowered his head and began to play. It was a mid-tempo beat and Megatron found himself tapping a pede to it. As the notes built and coalesced under Starscream's servos, Megatron's nodding his head joined with his tapping pede.

     The jet's style had always been that of a flashy lead, but this wasn't quite that. There was a solid riff between his trademark fretwork. It was a little crunchy, but also much darker than most of the Decepticons' rock anthems.

     The short bridge was sweeping and when Starscream tore into a scorching, mournful solo, Megatron felt his spark ache. The seeker held the final note of the solo almost too long and then picked up his riff again. One chorus, one verse and then came the outro. Before the last note had faded completely, the dock erupted into chaos.

     Both the mechs' optics nearly popped out of their heads. Leaping past their bandleader, Thundercracker and Skywarp threw themselves at Starscream's thrusters. The red seeker jerked his guitar away from their grasping hands and set it back inside the transport.

     “Screamer! Holy slag! What the frag was that?” shouted Skywarp.

     “Seriously, Star! That was wicked!” Thundercracker joined in.

     “You heard me,” the red jet seemed mortified.

     “We heard you alright! You rocked our faces off!”

     “Right from the middle of that solo. Frag! Was that one of your new songs?” Thundercracker reached for a blue hand and Starscream let him take it.

     “Its a new song,” Megatron spoke over the noise. “I asked him to play it for me.”

     The two kneeling seekers looked up at him with awe.

     “It was the most brilliant thing I've ever heard,” Megatron continued. “And the Decepticons are going to debut it at the Audial.” The guitarist looked stricken.

     “Analysis: new song will blow the roof off that shack,” Soundwave intoned.

     Starscream's frozen face thawed into a frail look of hope. He looked up at Megatron with wide optics. “You think so?” Megatron was almost shocked at the change in his guitarist. The ever-present arrogance was gone and in it's place, an uncertainty and hunger existed. But he smiled and reached out to caress a slowly flicking wing.

     “Its gonna send those Autobots running back home to their carriers' sparks,” he growled. Starscream brightened and straightened his back strut.

     “Play it again, Star!” Skywarp begged, half crawling into the red jet's lap. “I gotta know how it starts!” In unison, all the Decepticons began to chant, “Play it, play it, play it.” The seeker grinned fiercely, pulling his guitar back into his lap to begin his song again. When he finished, Skywarp pretended to offline into Thundercracker's arms who then just dumped him on the floor.

     “TC! I'm half-deactivated and you let me fall?” He giggled and sat up. “Killer! Its totally killer!” he declared. The rest of the band began to chime in their compliments when a polite voice spoke out.

     “Sirs, are you ready to depart?” Another shiny black mech, identical to the other drivers they'd had, stood a few meters behind them.

     The giddy mechs sobered up immediately. Megatron glanced at them all. They were as ready as they were ever going to be. “We're ready.”

     The mech stepped to a passenger door and it opened. The band climbed aboard, Starscream still clutching his guitar. The driver stopped Megatron and said confidentially, “Shockwave bid me give you this.” He pressed a small card into Megatron's hand. “A small advance for your expenses until the performance at the Audial. He said you could be trusted to use it wisely.”

     Megatron looked at the small card. “Two thousand credits,” the mech answered his unvocalized question. The silver mech's optics widened. He hadn't had that many credits all at once in his life. The driver took the moment to fill the empty nano-kliks. “The energon dispensers onboard have been filled and the dry storage stocked. Compliments of Shockwave.” He bowed and Megatron swung a pede into the transport. The door shut behind him and he quickly sub-spaced the credit card.

     The Decepticons were already making themselves comfortable for the multi-joor trip they heading on. He sat down heavily on a bench and the transport eased forward.

     A giggle broke the easy silence. He looked up to see Skywarp pressing a hand to his face. It was a futile gesture, his giggles growing into laughs and his laughs turning into howls. The rest of the band exchanged glances and had collectively shrugged at his hysteria when he jumped to his thrusters, holding his laughter long enough to shout, “ROCK FRAGGIN STARS!” He tumbled backwards, laughing uncontrollably again, weakly punching the air.

     His giddiness was infectious and they all succumbed to it. Megatron, who tried in vain to retain his composure, felt over-energized as his optics swept over his bandmates and their new transport. Even Soundwave's visor pulsed rapidly in delight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fluffy Megatron pondering, a silly flashback to the Slagmaker's "wild years," and more glitchy seeker drama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: nothing explicit. The usual bad language as the previous chapters. A few classic Megatron threats of inappropriate violence.

     The laughing fit had died down joors ago. They had spent a joor working on Starscream's new song. It had gone surprisingly well considering any input from the rest of the band was usually met with hostility and disdain from their main composer.

     Megatron suspected it was because he had allowed Starscream more creative control, and because he had forcefully bent the others to this idea. It still wasn't Lord Starscream and the Decepticons, but Megatron knew how much this song meant to his guitarist so he was willing to concede a bit of tyranny for  peace .

     Datapad resting idly in his hand, Megatron was currently humming Starscream's melody. He was the main lyricist so most of their songs, even the ones composed by Starscream, were about kicking aft, 'facing and living in the night-cycle. It was party rock, but it was fun to sing along to while you got slagged on high-grade.

     Not that the others could or wanted to do better. Having spent many of his off-duty joors at the mines reading Cybertronian poetry in secret, he had more experience with lyrical composition than the seekers or Soundwave.

     A huge hand pressed on his head where a dull ache was beginning in his processor. He grasped the emotional meaning behind Starscream's composition but still struggled for suitable words. Megatron knew he had to get this right. Not only to make a fair contribution to the song, but for Starscream, too. He was happy to know that the seeker forgave him and apparently trusted him with something so close to his spark. Looking up from the blank datapad, he watched the jet strum his guitar.

     His optics traveled slowly over the seeker's face, which scrunched together when he didn't like the chord he chose. Megatron took in his white wings, twitching as ever. Then, his canopy. His waist. His long legs. Then back up to his hands.

     Megatron wondered how such vicious fingers could elicit such beautiful sounds from that guitar. They had brawled backstage after a show once and while Megatron ended up winning, the seeker had landed a punch to his head that had left his visual feed glitching until his self-repair routines had cleared it. He winced at the memory and then shook it off. He found his optics back on the other mech's face.

     Relaxing, he studied the changes of emotions sweep over the jet: concentration, frustration, pleasure, triumph. If his face had been that expressive, Megatron doubted he would have lasted a vorn in the mines. Vos must have been an easier place if all the mechs there could be so loose with their expressions. He'd only been there once, but it had been a short stay.

     Slowly, Megatron became aware that the soft music had stopped. His optics focused and two hard, red optics were peering straight into his from a strangely and suddenly blank set of face. Not one to back down, the silver mech held those optics mercilessly. A klik passed. He raised an optic ridge in challenge. The rival optics narrowed and then broke the contact. Satisfied with his petty victory, Megatron surveyed the scene.

     Soundwave was quietly tapping out a beat on his practice pad. Solid old Soundwave. Megatron wasn't sure there was another mech who worked so hard at everything he did.

     The other seekers were gazing out the windows together, watching the scenery go by, doubtless chattering away on a private commlink. He glanced out the windows past their wings.

     Along most of the roadways between cities on Cyberton it was desolate. Transport fueling stations cropped up most often, maybe with a small repair bay but usually not. Less often, seedy transport-driver bars with an “All Femme Revue” attached sprang up on the long, lonely stretches.

     Back in their younger days before the mines, Megatron and his brother had roamed Cyberton, two lone mechs on a mission to stay over-energized as much as possible while seeing the planet.

     For a deca-cycle, they had been riding with a band of roving worker-mechs. They picked up odd jobs on the road for a few quick credits. They were all powerfully-built mechs, which made finding manual labor jobs easy. Their earlier joors were spent loading transports or doing construction. Their night-cycles found them blowing their credits on whatever energon they could find, raising a ruckus all the while.

     One day, they had pulled up to an “All Femme Revue,” marched in, and set to drinking. Megatron and his brother never seen anything like that before, but their fellow travelers were indifferent to the lascivious displays happening on stages around the club. A few femmes, and several more slightly built mechs, were dancing with their interface ports displayed, slipping off flimsy plating to expose the wiring underneath. The orange mech, Impactor, had slapped him on the back-strut and laughed.

     “I know you ain't a youngling, but you're starin like you ain't never seen an open panel!” The rest of the mechs joined in teasing him. Megatron glared at them over his cube, but his brother stood up and slurred loudly, “We sling spike with the best of them!” Megatron pushed him back down. Sometimes, he wondered who was actually sparked first.

     At the shouting, a small, thin mech, who seemed to be blue if you went by what little plating he was still wearing, wandered over. “Did someone say 'spike?'” he asked in a flirty tone.

     “Get lost, whore-bot,” Impactor grumbled. The blue mech continued to smile but it turned cold and sharp. As he headed toward another group of mechs, Megatron watched him go.

     “Look, you don't wanna mess with these whore-bots,” Impactor said. “They might be nice to look at, maybe chat up, but never, ever frag them.”

     “Isn't that the point of these places?” Megatron asked, gesturing to the club.

     “First, ya shouldn't pay for a frag. Second, these whore-bots are all infected,” he spat out like just the words would make him sick.

     “Infected?”

     “Yeah, Motormaster here,” he said, jerking a thumb at black mech. ”Got way too slagged one day and ended up fraggin one of these whore-bots. Got robbed of all his credits and he got a virus that left him glitching for a quartex. We had to pool all our credits together to afford a medic who could unscramble his processor.” Motormaster said nothing.

     “Son of a quint,” his brother mumbled next to him.

     “So just watch your afts and your credits. You two are good mechs.” Impactor raised his cube in a toast. “To afts and credits, may they never get slagged!” The group cheered and threw back their cubes.

     A song based on that toast from vorns ago was one of the first Megatron ever wrote. A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he remembered reading it to Soundwave for the first time. The navy mech might have looked embarrassed even with his visor and mask.

     “What's up, Megz?” Skywarp's voice broke into his memory. The purple seeker had turned away from the window at the sound of his laugh and now looked at him curiously.

     “You know I hate when you call me that,” Megatron said sternly.

     “Slipped!” Skywarp said by way of apology. Megatron accepted it. It wasn't such a bad name, he'd never really had a  secondary designation before aside from “Slagmaker,” but that was from his mining days.

     “I was remembering one of the first songs I wrote,” he finally answered.

     “Which one? Do we know it?” Thundercracker and Starscream looked up, too.

     “No. I never finished it.”

     “Why not?” Skywarp stepped off the bench and came closer.

     “I just didn't.”

     “Was it lame?” The jet wrinkled his nasal bridge in anticipatory disgust.

     “I didn't think it was. I thought it was funny.”

     “What was it about?”

     “A toast someone gave me a long time ago,” he said with his optics on Soundwave. As expected, the blue frame visibly tensed.

     “Why are you looking at Soundwave?”

     “Because he's the only mech who has heard it,” Megatron said, smirking.

     “You know it, mecha?” Skywarp turned and stared at him.

     “Affirmative.”

     “How does it go?”

     “Request: denied.”

     “Denied? What's so bad about this song?”

     After a long, expectant pause. “Lyrics: excessively vulgar.”

     “That sounds awesome!” The jet shouted. “You know I love that slag!” He spun back to Megatron. “Let's do this!”

     “I don't want to corrupt Soundwave's delicate processor,” the silver mech said with straight face.

     “But he already knows it!”

     “Corrupt it further,” Megatron clarified.

     “Oh frag you both to the Pit! Holdin out a good song on me!” Skywarp threw himself back on his bench, venting dramatically. Thundercracker patted him on the arm and turned to look back out the window. Then it was his turn to shout.

     “Helex! We're here!” They all looked out the window where small buildings and outposts had cropped up along the roadway.

     Their transport driver's voice filled the passenger compartment. “Welcome to Helex, Decepticons. We will arrive at The Scrap for scheduled load-in in approximately four breems.”

     This is it, Megatron thought to himself. Their second to last gig as the Decepticons they had been. A new era was dawning for them and he would lead them. His hands clenched as he imagined he Decepticons headlining at the Audial instead of the Autobots. At that nano-klik, he made up his processor to do whatever it took to keep his mechs together and take them to the top. Unmaker take his spark, he believed in these fraggers.

     Silence fell over the band as larger buildings came into view. Other transports passed them headed in the opposite direction and traffic started to build. After a few turns, they entered a more run-down sector of the city. Finally, their transport glided to a spot in front of a shabby metal building with rusty patches on its front. The unlit sign read, “The Scrap.” The doormech approached the transport and conferred with their driver, pointing down the block.

     The transport started again, made a turn at the corner and another turn down a wide alleyway behind the club. Other bands were busy dragging equipment in the freight door of The Scrap. A few paused to look at the Decepticons. Megatron walked around to the driver's door where the window was already down.

     “I will return a joor after your set to wait and transport the Decepticons to your lodging.” Megatron nodded. The band shuffled to the rear of the transport to start unloading their gear when two blocky mechs with purple badges on their plating approached them. They introduced themselves at Shockwave's agents in Helex.

     “Roadies!” shouted Skywarp, and he and Thundercracker high-fived.

     “Not exactly,” said the brown agent. “We will be detailing your customary set-up to pass on to your actual road crew which will join you at your performance at the Audial. There are other things to discuss, but that can wait until after your set-up. Soundchecks start in a joor.”

     The Decepticons exchanged glances. Skywarp raised a hand to his face and Megatron leaned over him menacingly. “If you start with your laughing, I'll punch you so hard you'll need to fuel through a tank-port until you deactivate.” Skywarp immediately sobered up. “Let's show these mechs what goes where.”

     The two agent-mechs dutifully carried all their gear – except for Starscream's guitar which he refused to let go -- to their designated space in the backstage. One mech stepped aside with Soundwave as the drummer explained how he like to arrange his kit. They set it up in a matter of breems and the green agent began tapping at a datapad. Soundwave looked over at Megatron and nodded.

     Thundercracker had already set up his rig and the other agent-mech had recorded it. With a look of intense concentration, Skywarp plugged cables into his keyboard. Then switched them. Then switched them again. Then he beamed and stepped back so it could be recorded as well.

     Starscream sulked in his spot next to his amplifier, his guitar perched on the top of his thruster and his hand around the neck. His four favorite pedals were arranged in a careful array on the floor. As the agent-mech approached, Starscream's scowl deepened exponentially. The brown mech knelt to study the pedals, then looked up at Starscream.

     “I don't want to use a board. They're not intuitive and needlessly complicated!” he screeched, his optics flashing. Megatron hustled over to diffuse his irate guitarist.

     “...a simpler set-up,” the brown mech was finishing. Starscream opened his mouth to really let him have it when Megatron reached them and said loudly:

     “We have a disagreement?”

     “I like my pedals the way they are!” the seeker snarled, pointing as his array.

     “And what are you suggesting?” he asked the brown mech who stood up.

     “I suggested to Starscream that an effects board would be a simpler option for the distortion he desires.”

     “But they're not simple! They have too many options and you have to program them!”

     “Easily done,” replied the brown mech. He angled toward Megatron. “They're standard with all stellar touring acts. One could be supplied by the end of the quartex with the necessary effects programmed in.”

     Megatron wondered what this resistance was all about. Starscream had attended the Science Academy, surely programming a board wasn't as hard as he claimed.

     “So what's the problem, Star,” he prodded gently, using his seeker's  favorite secondary designation .

     Star lowered his optics. “I just like stomping on them,” he admitted quietly.

     “So its a showmechship thing?” he mused. Star's optics flicked up and widened.

     “Yes!” he answered. “When you're feeling the beat, you can't tap a thruster on a flimsy board and hope you get the right channel. I reinforced the cases of my pedals so I can smash them all I want!”

     “So, its settled: Star keeps his pedals and keeps stomping away,” he smiled at the guitarist who beamed back. “But if his array is too much trouble to reproduce, he can continue to set them up.” The seeker frowned at this, but the brown mech cut in.

     “Its not a problem; my data is quite precise. It will be reproduced to his specifications every time.” Megatron and Star waited while Shockwave's agent made his entries. The mech stood and addressed the larger mech. “You have a microphone?”

     The vocalist pulled his mic from sub-space. It was a battered and dented dull silver much like his own plating. “It turns off and on,” he explained, flicking the switch.

     “Very well.”

     A band finished their soundcheck and came off the stage. The Decepticons and their agents carried all their equipment up and got ready. The soundmech's voice came from the back of the venue which wasn't very large to begin with.

     “Bass!” Thundercracker started playing notes. “Monitor?” came the voice again. Thundercracker flipped him a thumbs up.

     “Keyboards!” Skywarp began a complicated arpeggio with one hand. “Monitor?” Another thumbs up.

     “Guitar!” Starscream played a riff from the last song they had played in Kaon, the day half the mechs had rushed the stage in a rock 'n' roll frenzy. A couple mechs wandering on the floor stopped to listen. Then he ripped into the solo with a flourish only he could pull off. More mechs came up to listen. He looked up and shouted, “Monitor! Up!” He finished the solo on a high note and then just dropped his hands. “Sounds good!”

     “You went a little extra squealy on that one, Star,” Megatron drawled. The seeker grinned at him devilishly, his optics burning brightly.

     “Alright, vocals!” Megatron stepped up to his mic feeling self-conscious. He always did. Every single time. “One, two, one, two,” he barked into the mic. “Less in my monitor!” After a pause, “One, two, one! Yeah, that's it.”

     “Drums!” Soundwave beat a steady rhythm on one piece at a time as the soundmech called for them. “All the drums!” Never a show-off, Soundwave beat an easy pattern making sure to hit every piece at least twice. “Monitor?” Soundwave pointed a stick at the ceiling for a few nano-kliks and then hit a few more measures out. He raised his thumb.

     “Altogether!” Megatron nodded at Star who nodded at the other three. He heard Soundwave click his sticks three times and the song started. It was an anthem, like most of their songs, but it wasn't a real rocker like the one Star had played for his check. The silver mech growled and shouted, occasionally pointing at a bandmate and then pointing up or down to indicate his monitor levels. When all the Decepticons had approved of their monitor levels, the soundmech flashed a light at them.

     They walked off stage to wait with the other bands.

     Thundercracker turned back to them, his face thoughtfully arranged. “That was the best soundcheck we've ever had.” They all nodded in agreement; it usually took two or three songs to get all the levels right and they'd barely need one song to get their levels right.

     Shockwave's agents were waiting for them. The brown mech leaned in confidentially. “We replaced the club's soundmech with one of our preferred contractors. He is excellent.”

     “What will these mechas think of next?” Skywarp grinned as he hugged Thundercracker.

     Megatron cast a longing look at his guitarist and threw caution to the wind. Reached a bulky arm around the red seeker's waist, the Decepticon vocalist pulled him close. Starscream resisted for a nano-klik and then relaxed into the contact.

     “We're gonna tear this slag-hole down this night-cycle,” the larger mech rasped in the jet's audial. “All optics on you...so pull out all the stops.” The smaller mech repeated his earlier devilish grin. The surge in Megatron's spark could have deactivated him right then.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helex crumbles under the brutal Decepticon onslaught. And a drunk Starscream crumbles under his leader's blunt force seduction techniques.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: somewhat long & totally consensual (despite the drunkenness) explicit sticky scene. Just skip it if you want to keep your processor pristine. Drunken mechs. More swearing.

     With a last furious crash of the cymbals and a roar from his vocalizer, Megatron raised his fist in the air and glared at the crowd. Not a single mech was resting on his pedes; they were ravenous.

     At his side, Star had a thruster propped on a monitor, brandishing his guitar in the air like a weapon, his fist pumping to the rhythm of the audience's chants of “Decepticons! Decepticons!” The guitarist's optics were burning as he, too, surveyed the audience. Megatron didn't have to look back to know the rest of the Decepticons had assumed similarly triumphant positions.

     Helex was theirs.

     Tipping his mic back to his face where a savage look at been arranged, he growled, “We're the Decepticons! Consider your afts rocked!” The crowd howled and cheered and raged as Megatron ripped the mic off the stand, the stage lights dimming, and stalked off stage. An empty cube or two sailed over his head. In the darkened wings, the silver mech paused, letting the sound of the crowd wash over his frame, savoring it.

     Warm air vented on his plating and he onlined his optics. The three seekers surrounded him, red and blue with their guitars in hand. Soundwave had remained on stage to start dismantling his kit. A few calls of “Great set!” reached his audials as the next band prepared to take the stage which he acknowledged with a raised hand.

     “Great set,” Skywarp grumbled. “We always play a great set!” Thundercracker nodded. “And you, Star! You changed the solo for 'Electric Eye!'”

     “I had to play what I felt.” Their trineleader snapped. “These slag-heads seemed to like it.”

     “They lost their fraggin processors!”

     Feeling his plating starting to cool down, Megatron barked, “Let's clear our equipment. Time for glory later.” They returned to the stage and the crowd cheered again, but the band ignored them as they worked. With the help of Shockwave's agents, the Decepticons were off stage again in a matter of breems, gear packed and ready to be loaded out. Soundwave's cassettes had also returned from their perches where they had recorded the band's performance and were safely tucked away.

     “Your transport will arrive in half a joor,” said the brown mech as if they had asked.

     The Decepticons were bunched together in the backstage next to their mound of gear. Other mechs bustled around them, drinking, laughing, adjusting equipment. Each mech was exhausted; they had thrown their sparks into their performance.

     Megatron shifted uncomfortably on his pedes. He just wanted to sit down and have a drink.

     A green mech that reeked of cheap polish approached them.

     “Hey,” he wheezed. “You Decepticons was good. I thought ya manager had glitched hisself when he told me fifty shanix each.” He handed each of them a credit card. “Ya can come back any time. You younglings, just wow.” He turned away.

     It was Thundercracker's turn to be astonished, looking at the card in his hand. “We didn't even have to threaten him for it. How many times has that happened?”

     “Right, TC?” Skywarp looked like he was going to deactivate from joy. Then, “Let's get slagged!”

     “Load out, then we can get loose,” Megatron said, catching the jet by a shoulder intake.

     “Aw, Megz,” he whined. When his leader tightened his grip: “Fine, _fine_.”

     Right on time, the transport arrived and they transferred the equipment. The two agents left after wishing them a good night-cycle. Star sneered when his blue and purple trinemates moved to head back into the venue and take up spots at the bar. “You want to drink here?”

     “Where else, Screamer,” his blue trinemate asked.

     “Somewhere nice. _Not_ here,” he said, crossing his arms over his canopy.

     “But we only have fifty shanix.”

     “Can't Shockwave get us into somewhere?” He turned to Megatron, who cycled his optics. Spoiled sparkling of a seeker.

     “We're on our own this night-cycle.” The seeker vented in disgust.

     “I played my spark out and now I have to sit in this dank hole and drink sub-standard energon.” He flicked a hand dismissively at the venue.

     “It won't be that bad, Star,” Skywarp cooed, putting an arm around his stubborn trineleader. Thundercracker added an arm and they led Star back into the club. Megatron felt a pang at how casually the seekers touched each other, how they touched one seeker in particular.

     “Well, my mech,” he said, turning to Soundwave. “Three glitchy seekers aren't going to show us up.” Soundwave inclined his head and they trudged back inside.

     The air inside The Scrap was stifling and the next band was already playing. Shoving their way to the bar, Megatron ordered one cube, knowing that Soundwave's encounter with triple-distilled energon was still haunting him. He took a sip and grimaced; it was sour, but it burned in a familiar way. A cluster of flicking wings caught his optic as he surveyed the mechs around the bar. He nodded to the drummer and started plowing his way toward them.

     A few over-energized mechs were talking to the seekers as Megatron joined them, and surprisingly, Starscream was ignoring them in favor of concentrating on his cube. The silver mech impulsively brushed a hand against his wing. Star shot a look of warning toward him, but seeing his bandmate instead of some strange mech, the look softened into a small smile. Then the jet pointed to his cube and stuck out his glossa.

     “Yeah, it tastes like slag, but you won't notice after a few more,” Megatron agreed.

     “I'm not looking forward to those 'few more,'” Star replied before chugging the rest of his cube. He coughed and leaned over the bar to order another. Megatron did the same, minus the cough.

     Skywarp smiled up at his band leader after the other mechs wandered off. “Glad ya could join us, Megz!” Megatron felt that he was never going to hear his full designation from the purple seeker again. The two seekers finished their cubes and picked up two more.

     “A toast,” Megatron raised his cube high. The others raised theirs. “To Decepticon domination!” The seekers echoed him and they all threw back their cubes. The ex-miner gathered another round.

     Thundercracker raised his cube, “To getting slagged!” Another round.

     Skywarp raised his new cube, “To fraggin!” Another round.

     They all looked to Star who was being uncharacteristically quiet. He raised his cube, “To rocking the known stellarverse!” Another round. Megatron's frame was beginning to feel relaxed, but the seekers' optics were starting to swim.

     Just then, a femme, actually the only femme Megatron had seen so far, walked by and Skywarp turned to watch her. “Hey!” he called to her and when she stopped, he stumbled after her. Dutifully, Thundercracker followed his trinemate. Grinning at his good fortune, Megatron turned to his guitarist. Star was nursing his new cube, wings moving in short, slow sweeps.

     “You've been quiet tonight,” Megatron prompted.

     “Just got slag on my processor,” he replied.

     “Like what? Your new song?”

     “Mostly,” he shrugged.

     “Its going to be killer,” the larger mech said encouragingly.

     “Of course, it is. I wrote it,” Starscream said defiantly.

     Megatron chuckled. Not much could keep the seeker's ego restrained. He decided to change the subject slightly. “You were amazing onstage.”

     The jet huffed his vents in response. Megatron stepped closer, but Starscream didn't seem to notice.

     “You had all these fraggers eating out of your hand.” The white wings hiked up a few inches. “And the new solo for 'Electric Eye' blew me away. You should keep it.”

     “I'm actually going to do a new solo for every show. Never the same one twice. Completely off the plating.”

     “Ambitious,” the silver mech admitted.

     “Aren't I always?” The jet smirked.

     “That's something I've always liked about you.”

     “What?” The seeker looked up with surprised optics.

     “I admire your ambition,” Megatron stated.

     The jet narrowed his optics, unsure if he was being mocked.

     “You're talented, driven to the point of being ruthless, and you never give up. That's the Decepticon attitude.”

     The seeker smiled. “Not to mention over-energizing yourself into spontaneous recharge.”

     Megatron returned the smile. “That, too.” He clinked his cube against Star's and downed it all. Star took a long sip and as he opened his mouth to say something else, a wild cheer rose from the crowd.

     On the stage, the femme that Skywarp had chased after spun in the lights, her peach plating gleaming. Whistles and jeers filled the club. Stepping front and center, she looked out over the crowd mic in hand, and in a strong, clear voice said:

     “Thanks for staying with us this night-cycle. Let's hear it for the opening bands!” Cheers went up and she smiled. “Its our honor to share the stage with such amazing musicians. We hope we reach the bar they set for us here.” More cheers.

     The rest of her band stepped onto the stage and took their places. On an unvocalized cue, they began playing. The riffs crunched and Megatron was surprised at how heavy their sound was. The peach femme's voice rang out, rising and falling with the melody. She marched up and down the stage, reaching out to slap the raised servos of the mechs at the front. The solo was pretty good, too, but Star was light-years beyond it.

     Breaking his attention from the stage, he glanced down to see his head poking around his shoulder. Megatron reached back and pulled the seeker to stand in front of him, ostensibly for a better view of the performance. Being able to keep an optic on that sleek frame was the better option.

     It became clear that the real attraction of the band was the peach femme as her band began their next song. She was a real showmech and her band were just bit players. They were good, he was actually enjoying the music, but they didn't have her energy.

     They played song after song, each ending to loud cheers. Star watched in rapt attention, his head nodding to the beat. Megatron decided to remind the seeker that he was still there by gently tracing a panel on the back of a smooth wing. Star glanced back over his shoulder vent as his wing flicked into the caress.

     Encouraged, Megatron rubbed widening circles on the same wing which twitched appreciatively. He closed the distance between himself and Star. As the song ended, he slid a hand from back strut to wingtip along the wing's trailing edge. The seeker stiffened. Confused, the silver mech started to lower his hand. Star spun and grasped it, his optics a deep dark red.

     Without a word,  the jet started pushing his way through the crowd, dragging an even more confused Megatron behind him.

     “For our last song tonight, we have two special guests joining us,” the femme's voice rose above the noise of the crowd. A purple flash caused the mechs at the front of the stage to shout in surprise. Skywarp and Thundercracker appeared, the teleporter clutching a mostly full cube in his hand. “Introducing Skywarp and Thundercracker, members of the Decepticons!” The drunk seekers bowed sloppily to rowdy cheers.

     Megatron's steps slowed in a kind of growing horror, but a sharp tug on his hand got him moving again. He made up his processor that he didn't want to see this. Spotting Soundwave's tall frame in the crowd, he opened a commlink, telling Soundwave to retrieve the seekers after the song ended.

     Star continued dragging him to the door leading to the backstage. They pushed through it, through the busy mechs in the room, then out the freight door at the back of The Scrap.

     Once outside, Star released his hand and faced away from him. With his lust slowly building again,  Megatron  reached out and traced a pattern on a wing he knew represented his interest and desire.

     Star whirled on him. “Why did you do that?” he shrieked. “Why are you always touching me?”

     “Isn't it obvious?” Megatron stepped closer.

     The seeker backed up a step. “What?” he stuttered, his over-energized processor struggling. “Since when?”

     “Since the night-cycle at the Aileron. Does it matter?”

     “The Aileron?”

     “You never rebooted those memory files?” The seeker shook his head.

     “That hangover was so vicious. I didn't want to know.”

     “We were half-way to 'facing right in the booth.”

     “We what?” The jet looked stricken.

     “The way you smelled,” the silver mech stepped even closer. “The way you tasted. I can't get it off my processor.”

     Starscream shrank away. “You're lying! I would never....”

     “But you did. We did. And I want more.”

     “More? But you called me a...,” his voice trailed off.

     “I've already apologized for that.”

     “You seemed sorry,” the jet said slowly.

     “More sorry than you know.”

     “What?”

     His desire slowly melting into frustration at this drunken conversation, Megatron decided that words would never convince the seeker of his intentions. His arm shot out around the jet's frame and pulled him tight. He pressed his lips against Star's firmly. The seeker stiffened again, but didn't pull away. Megatron was encouraged.

     He kissed the jet over and over again, growing more insistent with each one. Finally, the seeker responded. Megatron growled and traced a finger down Star's face. The jet's lips parted slightly and Megatron teased them with his glossa. A soft moan rewarded his effort. He slid his glossa into Star's mouth and the seeker sucked on it gently. Megatron gave a moan of his own and his cooling fans clicked on. He broke the kiss reluctantly. Star looked up at him with dazed optics.

     “Not here,” he growled, pushing the jet toward their waiting transport. They climbed in and when Star tried to sit on a bench, Megatron yanked him up and pulled him toward the back room.

     “Megatron...,” the jet stalled.

     “What?” he hissed impatiently.

     “I'm slagged off.”

     “I am, too.”

     “Then maybe we shouldn't.” Megatron growled again and pushed the jet up against the wall, devouring him with a kiss. The smaller mech didn't hesitate to respond. “Don't be afraid, Star,” the big mech rasped.

     “ Never ,” came the reply.

     “Then what?” He leaned in for another kiss when an explosion of sound came through the transport door.

     “That.” Megatron groaned and pushed himself away from the seeker. Skywarp and Thundercracker collapsed in a tangle right in the middle of the passenger compartment. “Ow, get off me, TC,” a muffled voice whined.

     “I can't move anymore, Warp,” came the slurred answer. Megatron stomped up to them, lifting a pede to kick them into scrap, but a strong hand on his arm stopped him. It was Soundwave.

     “Seeker recharge: imminent.” Sure enough, a few nano-kliks later, the two seekers' venting became slow and even.

     They felt the transport start to move and took their seats. Watching from across the compartment, Megatron kept his optics on the remaining seeker. Star sagged against the bench, his wings twitching imperceptibly. Without looking away, he addressed Soundwave:

     “Did you have a hard time peeling those glitches away from their new friends?”

     “Difficulty: moderate.”

     “Do I even want to know?”

     “Probability: less than ten percent.”

     “Dear Primus. Thanks, Soundwave. I owe you.”

     “Debt status: hundreds of vorns to pay off.”

     “You calculating aft.”

     “Report: required?”

     Megatron laughed. It never failed to amaze him how a mech who never vocalized in more than a monotone could crack him up so much. “No, friend. I will just try not to rack up anymore debt with you.”

     “Chance: fat.” Megatron laughed again. He settled back against his bench and crossed his arms over his chest plating. Quiet settled over the compartment and the bandmates rode in silence. Two breems later, they felt the transport slowing as they reached their destination.

     Megatron pointed to the recharging seekers. “You get out and I'll hand one to you.” Star stepped out followed by Soundwave. Thinking that he was still too drunk for this slag, he lifted Thundercracker off Skywarp and passed him to a waiting Soundwave. Hefting Skywarp over his shoulder, he descended from the transport and followed his bandmates into the lodging.

     All the service-mechs were a soft green and not one seemed to judge the state of the Decepticons. Grateful for that, Megatron took the access codes and went to lift with the other three in tow.

     They rode up to their and found their rooms. He and Soundwave dumped the passed out seekers on a berth and said their good-byes for the night-cycle. Star was waiting quietly in the hallway. The silver mech punched his code in the access panel and let the seeker in first. Similar to the room they shared in Tarn, this one was in shades of green which was soothing enough.

     Star climbed into the first berth and laid down. Megatron lowered himself into the other, glad that he wouldn't have to worry about anything else for a few joors. He offlined his optics and prepared to fall into recharge when he heard a sigh vented next to his berth. He onlined his optics to see Star leaning over him.

     “Star?”

     “Do you...?” He trailed a hand tentatively down Megatron's chest plating.

     “Yes,” the silver mech said reaching out and pulling the seeker on top of him. Star brushed his lips against the silver mech's softly. Megatron captured his face with a firm grip and began kissing him feverishly. The jet broke the kiss.

     “I pulled up my memory files...do you really want me?” he asked, his optics blank.

     “More than anything,” Megatron said, claiming another kiss. He felt the seeker smile against his lips and then grind his hips into Megatron deliciously. Eager hands stroked his chest and shoulder plating. The seeker broke the kiss again and the larger mech groaned in frustration.

     “Did you imagine me like this?” he asked.

     “Not quite.”

     “How?”

     “From behind.” The seeker wiggled in delight. “Do that again.” Another wiggle.

     “And?”

     “And what?”

     “You just imagined me?”

     “I self-served.” Another wiggle.

     “When?”

     “In the washrack at the last lodging.” Another wiggle.

     “Ah ha. No mech takes three breems to wash, no matter how dirty.”

     “You know my secret now.”

     “I'm sure you have more. I will get them all out.”

     “How?” In answer, the seeker nuzzled his head under Megatron's jaw and started sucking and nipping at the cables in his neck.

     “I will show you,” he whispered and began grinding against Megatron's frame again.

     Two sets of cooling fans clicked on. Megatron was already dissolving in ecstasy. Real Starscream was so much more incredible than dream Starscream. His hazy thoughts were interrupted when a hand slipped under his chest plating and tweaked some wiring. He arched his massive frame into the sensation. He heard a soft laugh. “Sensitive, are we?”

     Megatron grunted and traced a very suggestive pattern into Star's wing. Another soft laugh. “Is that so? If you recover, you can try and claim me.” Megatron groaned at the implication and another bundle of wires were pinched. His optics offlined.

     “Stay with me, Megatron. I have such sights to show you.” The silver mech onlined his optics to find Star staring down at him with his own optics blazing. His face came closer and their lips met in a hungry kiss. The seeker nipped at his lower lip before kissing his jawline. Then his neck cables and Megatron's head lolled back.

     Star shifted lower to kiss his chest plating. He dragged his glossa back and forth across the silver metal. “So hot,” he whispered before shifting to kiss abdominal plating. Again, the glossa teased the metal. The silver mech gasped as a hand pressed against his spike housing, Star teasing ever closer with his mouth. Megatron sent the command to release the panel's latch and his spike pressurized quickly. “Mighty Megatron,” the seeker said reverently.

     That warm glossa began licking at the base of his spike. Long, slow swipes. He grit his denta. Up and down, slowly moving higher. “Primus,” Megatron hissed. He angled his head to look down at the seeker and their optics locked. A shudder of pleasure shook his frame as Star flicked his glossa over the tip of his spike once, twice, three times.

     A satisfied smirk twisted Star's lips and then he slipped his mouth over Megatron's spike. A hand wrapped around his spike lower down and stroked in time to the seeker's mouth. The silver mech moaned with every stroke. His cooling fans were roaring at this point and a searing heat began to build between his thighs. Megatron reached a trembling hand to stroke the seeker's head but it was batted away. Instead, he clutched at the berth beneath him.

     Star pulled back after swirling his glossa around the tip of Megatron's spike. The silver mech thrust his hips up for more contact. “Do something for me,” the jet rasped.

     “Anything, anything,” he replied hoarsely. Hearing the soft click of the seeker's interface panel opening, Megatron thought he'd deactivated and merged with the Allspark. Star crawled up next to his head and then swung his hips over the larger mech, his valve was positioned above Megatron's face. “Suck me, lick me, taste me.”

     Remembering the scent and taste of Star on his hand after the night-cycle at the Aileron, Megatron eagerly obeyed. As he lapped at the jet's wet valve, savoring the tangy flavor on his glossa, his optics slid up his back-strut. The white wings were trembling as they flicked slowly.

     His optics cycled at the sight and he thrust his glossa inside Star's valve wanting to taste all of it. The wings shuddered. “Oh, that's it. Yes.” The seeker's hips pressed back against Megatron's face and he put his hands on those hips to hold them still. He felt Star's mouth slide over his spike again and he struggled not to thrust up into him. Between the twin sensations of his glossa inside Star's valve and his spike in Star's mouth, Megatron lost the ability to process. He merely acted and reacted.

     The mouth on his spike pulled back and then he did thrust up. “Use your fingers.” Then the mouth returned. Megatron slid a finger slowly into Star's valve. He was so wet. He pulled his finger out and sucked on it. He really had never tasted anything so good. Two fingers slid into that valve. And then back into his mouth. The valve, his mouth. He worked his fingers as deep as he could manage and Star shuddered. Megatron's venting grew ragged as he pushed his fingers into that tight valve over and over again. The heat between his thighs was almost unbearable.

     “Enough!” Those red hips lifted away from his head and were replaced by Star's face. The seeker crushed his lips against Megatron's and his glossa slipped out to lick at them. “You like the way I taste?” The silver mech nodded and licked his own lips. He could still detect the scent of Star's lubricant.

     The jet sat back, straddling Megatron's hips. The larger mech's spike pressed against his abdominal plating. Star stroked its length a few times and Megatron's vocalizations of pleasure were shot through with static. Lifting his hips again, Star aligned his valve with the waiting spike and then lowered himself slowly onto it. His quivering wings were hitched high on his back-stru, and Megatron didn't know where to look: those wings, the face transfixed in pleasure or the sight of his spike being swallowed inch by inch by Star's valve.

     With Megatron's spike fully-seated in his valve, Star held still. After a deep vent, he began to ride it slowly. Long, slow motions that left Megatron venting hard in frustration.

     “Star, please....” The sound of his vocalizer begging shocked him. The seeker answered with a moan. “Please,” he said again and another moan answered and blue servos began tracing along the golden-yellow canopy. “Please, please.” Star ground against him in the most wanton way, his back strut arching. Megatron growled and grabbed the seeker's hips and began guiding him up and down. “Please,” he whispered as began thrusting up into Star. The jet's head lolled on his neck-cables as their pace quickened.

     Megatron was consumed by the sounds of their interfacing, the scent of it, the sight of it, the sensations. Something snapped inside him and a rush of words spilled from his vocalizer: “Star, please. Overload. Please. I want to see you. Please. Star. I want to see you. I want you....”

     The seeker's head snapped up and he caught the larger mech's optics. With a snarl, he started riding Megatron's spike harder and faster. Half a klik passed and Megatron felt that familiar sensation tightening between his thighs. Unable to break away from Star's optics, he said, “No. No. You. I want to see you. Please.”

     Star reached under a slowly whirling turbine, pinched the wiring there and shuddered violently. His valve clenched hard in overload around Megatron's spike and the silver mech stopped fighting. He grit his denta and vented hard. As overload crashed over him, he gasped raggedly. His frame arched up into Star and he felt all the tension in his frame become liquid fire as it raced through his circuits and fuel lines. “Frag!” he gasped as the last wave of pleasure shook him.

     Exhausted and spent, Star tipped over and landed on Megatron's chest. The sated mech didn't care. He wrapped his arms carefully around his seeker. His seeker. His Star. His vents hitched and he sighed more contentedly then he had in quartexes. Megatron smiled and fell into a deep recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing this chapter was agonizing, but now that its posted, I should be able to get back to my previous posting schedule. Thanks for reading! R&R if you please.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream cons Megatron into unknowingly participating in a version of an outdated Vosian mating custom. Fluff, a sham of a fight, and shameless, shameless smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: long explicit sticky. A bit of violence, because our star-crossed lovers do not have gentle sparks, but nothing typically MegaScream.

     Movement and scraping metal. Megatron was awake. He groaned. He was hungover again, but it wasn't anything like the nightmare of the day after they'd signed their management contract. No, this was just a regular hangover. He could handle it. But there was a weight on his chest and it was shifting. He onlined his optics and saw the top of Star's head resting there. He booted his memory files and grinned like a villain.

     “Star,” he said softly, caressing the head of his lover.

     “Hmm?”

     “How do you feel?”

     “Kinda slagged.” Megatron smiled.

     “You don't have to get up. I'm fine like this.”

     Star stilled. “Did we....?”

     “Like we were in a pleasure-vid.”

     “Primus,” the seeker groaned.

     “You enjoyed it.”

     “I did. My valve feels like...ugh. Did you?”

     “I feel like the luckiest mech in the stellarverse right now.”

     “Don't slag me off.”

     “I'm not. If I was sent back to the mines tomorrow, I would still be happy.”

     “I said don't slag me off.”

     “Star, look at me,” he nudged his seeker's head gently. Star complied, optics blank. “Do I look like I'm pulling your thruster?” The optics studied him for a few nano-kliks. Then they filled with an emotion Megatron couldn't place and his lover smiled.

     “I guess not,” he admitted and laid his head back on Megatron's chest.

     “You're amazing, And you're mine,” the silver mech said, tightening his hold on his jet. “And I have never been fragged like that. Primus, Star.”

     “I guess you've never been to Vos.”

     “What? Do they teach that at an Academy?” He felt somewhat horrified.

     Star chuckled. “No, you aft. Do you think we all train as pleasure-bots? I have a sparked talent.”

     “I'll say,” Megatron laughed. He squeezed his seeker, reveling in the warmth and closeness of his frame. “If you want to recharge, I'm fine. I might, too.”

     “Maybe another joor or two. My processor hurts.” The seeker vented a sigh and his venting slowly grew deeper. Megatron slipped into recharge with a smile on his face for a second time that night.

 

*****

 

     Movement. Metal scraping. Megatron onlined and he had the strange sensation in his processor that this had already happened to him. The shifting weight on his chest. Starscream. He onlined his optics and indeed, Starscream was on top of him. He bit back a laugh.

     “Star,” he whispered, caressing his lover's head.

     “Hmm?”

“How do you feel?”

     “I feel like you already asked me that.” Megatron laughed then.

     “Because I did a few joors ago.”

     “Oh.”

     “Silly glitch,” he said affectionately. “How's your processor?”

     “Alright. But I could use a cube.”

     “Same here.”

     “Are you gonna get up?”

     “I think I have to.”

     “Hmm. Room service?”

     “I'm not gonna order ten boxes of  energon sweets , too.”

     “Go to the Pit,” Star shot back. “A box of rust sticks?”

     “Fine. One box.” Megatron laughed again. “If the miners saw me now, ordering room service rust sticks for a glitchy seeker who gave me the best fragging I've ever had.” A blue hand flew up and swatted at his face. The silver mech caught the hand and pressed it to his lips. “I don't really give a frag about what anyone thinks about us.”

     “Us?”

     “You and me. Who else?”

     “Hmm.” Then a pause and a gasp. “Warp and TC! And Soundwave!”

     “Don't give a frag about them either.”

     “But we're in a band together!”

     “Soundwave has been watching my aft and saving it for vorns. He's not gonna care.” He gave his lover a reassuring caress on his wing. “The other two glitches are your trinemates. You handle them. Anyway, all of them should be glad that we aren't going to fight anymore.”

     “We're not?”

     “Primus, Star. Are you still going to act like a spoiled sparkling now that we're together?”

     “Not on purpose.”

     “The Unmaker take me now,” Megatron groaned melodramatically. The blue hand returned for more swatting. He caught and kissed it again.

     “Hurry up and comm for room service. My tank aches.”

     The larger mech vented a sigh and comm-ed down to the service desk. He placed his order and added a box of rust sticks when a finger began to jabbing him in the side, which he grabbed and held.

     He closed the commlink and told Star, “Half a joor.”

     “What're we gonna do til then?” Star sounded bored.

     “This.” He shifted Star higher on his frame and kissed him long and hard.

 

*****

 

     When Skywarp and Thundercracker finally onlined and teleported into Megatron and Star's room, they found the two mechs lounging in the same berth, studying a datapad with rust sticks in their mouths. The two seekers just gaped for a few nano-kliks. Megatron glanced up, raised an optic ridge and said, “Did you online more glitched-up than usual or have you forgotten how to close your intakes?” Their mouths snapped shut.

     Star waved the datapad. “We're working on lyrics!” The two seekers looked at each other and disappeared in a purple flash. “They took that well.”

     Half a klik later, his commlink pinged.

     ::Soundwave::

     ::Seekers report: Megatron and Starscream sharing a berth::

     ::This is true::

     ::Noted::

     ::Everything is fine. You did not online in the Pit. Band meeting now::

     ::Affirmative:: The commlink closed.

     “Brace yourself, Star.” He said, placing a kiss on his seeker's head.

     There was a purple flash and the rest of the Decepticons appeared. Soundwave's visor flashed once and then he pulled up a chair and sat down. The seekers sat down quietly on the empty berth.

     “We don't have another gig for six days,” Megatron began, ignoring the looks on the two seekers' face. “We will probably stay here until its time to roll out.” The two seekers brightened.

     “Since we're going to have a lot of free time, we need to work on the tasks Shockwave assigned us. Namely, Star's song and our logo. Soundwave, where are you on the logo design?”

     “Status: incomplete.”

     “What do you have so far?”

     A long pause. “Completion: zero percent.”

     “What's the problem?”

     “Soundwave: programmed for precision and calculation, not art.”

     Megatron fought back an angry retort. Instead, he said, “Star, get on the Yox and look up band logos.” His seeker tapped on the datapad and after a few nano-kliks, tiny images filled the screen. He studied the screen for a while, then pointed to a couple images. “Forward those to Soundwave.” Star tapped a few more times.

     “Images: received,” Soundwave confirmed.

     “Wait. Is that the Autobot logo?” he pointed to an image. “Zoom.” A few taps and the image filled the screen.

     “Why don't we design our our logo to mock theirs?” Star asked. “Since we're doing this show at the Audial to overthrow them anyway.”

     Skywarp jumped off the berth while Megatron considered his lover's suggestion. “Lemme see it, Screamer.” Star turned the datapad around to face his trinemate. “Oh yeah, we could totally corrupt this!”

     “Forward that to Soundwave, too.” Tap, tap, tap.

     “Image: received.”

     “Alright, Soundwave. Now that you know what we have in mind, I expect something by when we get together for practice tomorrow.” He glared at the seekers who frowned when he mentioned band practice. “Yes, we're practicing. We can't rust on our afts for six days. Plus, we need to work on Star's song. Or do you not want to cram your pedes up the Autobots' tailpipes in the designation of rock 'n roll?”

     “Where are we going to practice?” Thundercracker asked.

     “I'll see if we can rent a meeting room in this lodging while we're here. I'll comm Soundwave the location when I get it. Also, Soundwave: the usual with Laserbeak and Ravage's footage from last night-cycle. The rest of the day is free time. Dismissed.”

     Skywarp and Thundercracker didn't even bother standing up, they teleported right off the berth. Soundwave stood and left through the door.

     “Now. Where were we?” Megatron took the datapad from Star's hand and dropped it on the floor. He started kissing his seeker's shoulder vent, moving toward his head. With a moan, Star pushed him away.

     “Comm down for the practice room first. You're not gonna wanna to do it when we're done.”

     “You're brilliant,” he replied, pressing one more kiss on red plating.

     He opened the commlink, reserved a larger room, and forwarded the information via datalink to Soundwave. After receiving confirmation from Soundwave, he closed that link, too.

     Megatron sat up and gently pressed a waiting Star back into the berth, letting him settle his wings properly. He swung a leg over his lover's frame and straddled his hips. He pinned two blue hands to the berth above his seeker's head with one of his own huge black hands.

     “You're helpless,” he smirked.

     “If that's what you want to tell yourself,” his Star smirked back.

     “You're mine,” he growled, his core temperature beginning to rise.

     “You have to claim me first,” came the challenge.

     “This seems to be a good start,” he growled again, tightening his grip on those blue hands. He leaned down for a kiss but Star suddenly bucked his frame and rocked Megatron half off his knees. The silver mech scrabbled for grip on the berth and his seeker launched a now free hand at his face. The punch tipped him off the berth and he crashed to the floor. He put a hand to his stinging face and stared at Star in confusion. Then his anger flared. “Are you glitched?”

     Star was on his knees on the berth, his hand still balled in a fist. “I said you had to claim me. I am a Vosian seeker, sparked in the proud tradition of the only truly flight-capable mechs on Cybertron.” He sneered pridefully and got to his thrusters. “Cybertron may not have seen war for millions of vorns, but I am still a war-build and trained in combat. Now, come claim me if you dare.” He motioned for Megatron to approach.

     The offended mech stayed where he was. He stared up at his Star, emotions roiling in his spark. Anger, as always; hurt that his lover had struck him; confusion because he wasn't sure what Star was asking; awe at his seeker's proud, defiant stance; lust; and lastly but most strongly, possessiveness. His spark burned with a need to possess his seeker in every way. He stood, growling. Without warning, he lunged forward.

     The seeker kicked him in the chest plating and then leapt off the berth. Megatron spun and lunged again. The jet swung a punch into his abdominal plating and ducked away under his arms. They continued that way for a few kliks, Megatron lunging and Star landing hit after hit before easily spinning away. After a punch to the face that left him tasting energon in his mouth, Megatron decided his jet was more serious than he'd first believed. That same jet was standing on a berth again.

     The  larger mech approached slowly then faked a lunge. As a thruster flashed out, Megatron caught it and yanked it. The seeker crashed down but his other thruster was flying out to meet his chest plating. Pivoting away, the thruster barely scraped him. In a fluid motion, Star flung himself sideways and swung his loose thruster up at Megatron's head. The silver mech ducked it but dropped the other thruster. Star gracefully rolled himself off the berth.

     Before the jet had a chance to straighten up completely, Megatron launched himself. But rather than aim for the seeker's frame, he aimed for the nearest wing. Star tried to dodge him, but the Decepticon leader swung out a hand and raked the thin plating as hard as he dared. The jet gasped, then snarled as he threw a flurry of punches at the larger mech.

     Megatron had been expecting that. Frag with a flier's wings and they lose it, he smirked. Bracing himself, he stepped into the punches, not leaving the furious jet enough room to swing. He swept a heavy pede at the jet's thrusters, simultaneously yanking down hard on a wing. The actions brought the shrieking seeker crashing toward him, but Megatron stepped away. As the jet fell past him, the larger mech shoved him hard between the wings and followed him down, landing on his hips.

     The seeker thrashed wildly, thrusters kicking, trying to rock Megatron from his position. The larger mech yanked on a wing and the jet howled. Star struggled to push himself up and he was shoved down again, his canopy glass smacking into the floor.

     “They didn't call me the Slagmaker in the mines as a joke. I've beaten mechs twice your size and twice as mean without straining,” Megatron growled. “No fancy Academy moves either.” The taste of victory mingled with the trickle of energon in the silver mech's mouth. He hadn't forgotten what the point of this fight had been and he grinned cruelly.

     Keeping a restraining hand between Star's wings, he shifted himself back over his seeker's thighs, pinning them slightly spread. He reached his free hand down between them to his jet's interface panel which was already hot to the touch. Kinky little glitch, he thought to himself. Knowing the jet wasn't going to give up that easily, Megatron felt for the hidden manual latch. Lubricant was already seeping at the seams of the panel and the ex-miner cycled his optics at the feeling of it. Then he found the latch and activated it. The panel clicked open softly and he vented the scent of Star's warm lubricant into his olfactory receptors.

     When he slid a finger inside Star's valve, the jet's struggles slowed. After a few strokes, he put the finger in his mouth and sucked it greedily. He slid the finger in again, this time curling it against the side of the valve, searching for the cluster of sensors he knew was there. His lover arched back and vented a loud moan when he found it. Megatron stroked the cluster over and over again until his jet's venting grew ragged.

     He withdrew the finger and his lover slumped on the floor, wings quivering. Megatron sucked on his finger as he weighed his options. It would be a total victory to bring his seeker to overload with just his hand, but he was eager to feel his lover around his spike again. Then it occurred to him that he could do both. Having decided, he slipped his finger into Star again.

     He started slowly, occasionally stroking that sensitive cluster just inside Star's valve. His seeker moaned every time he did. He sped up his strokes. Concentrating on the feel of Star's valve, Megatron dimmed his optics. When the mech beneath him's hips started to buck into his touch, he groaned loudly.

     Megatron added a second finger and drank in the sight of his seeker shivering with pleasure. Pleasure he was giving him. Thrusting harder and deeper, he angled for another cluster of sensors. The jet spasmed when he found it. Feeling the pressure building behind his spike housing, Megatron worked that cluster relentlessly. His lover spasmed over and over again and his wings fluttered erratically. Finally, Star's entire frame shuddered and his valve clenched around Megatron's fingers in overload. He gasped and his wings sagged.

     Shifting so that he could lift the limp seeker's hips, Megatron arranged his legs under him and released his spike. With loud vent of pleasure, he slid slowly into Star who vocalized a soft cry. He never wanted to stop fragging his jet, it felt so good, but his need was burning him alive. The pace he set was hard and fast. When he adjusted his angle to go deeper, Star finally reacted and began meeting his thrusts.

     Without warning, his seeker's valve tightened around his spike. Megatron faltered thinking he was overloading again but the valve relaxed. The silver mech resumed his vigorous thrusts and the valve tightened again. He groaned at the incredible tightness of his lover. Then the valve relaxed.

     Not having any idea that his lover was purposely clenching and relaxing his valve, the sensations sent Megatron's processor reeling with pleasure. He was thrusting thoughtlessly, groaning with each contraction of that wet valve and every contraction brought him closer to overload. The heat between his thighs was searing. When his lover's valve started clenching and relaxing rapidly, Megatron lost his last code of control. Pulling those red hips hard against him, the silver mech overloaded deep inside his lover with a wordless vocalization. As the last wave of pleasure faded, he slumped back on his pedes, pulling Star back into his lap.

     Slowly, his ragged venting calmed and his cooling fans powered down. “Star,” he whispered against the smaller mech's head.

     “Hmm?”

     “I'm not done.”

     “What?”

     “I'm claiming all of you.”

     “But we...,” Star began but Megatron pushed him off his lap and the seeker fell on his hands and knees. Before he could scramble up or away, the larger mech grabbed his hips and held him steady. He looked down at his lover and saw the fluids trickling down his white thighs. Cycling his optics in anticipation, he lowered his face to Star's valve and vented over it. Star shuddered.

     Megatron slid his glossa slowly around the rim of his lover's valve, tasting Star's tangy fluid and his own bitter one. He lapped steadily as the seeker's frame shivered and his wings quivered. With one hand braced against the floor, he reached the other under and between to Star's spike housing which he tapped several times.

     “Megatron?”

     “Do it.” After a few nano-kliks, he heard a click and Star's spike pressurized into his waiting hand. He grasped it firmly and began stroking it in tandem with the strokes of his glossa. The seeker's vocalizer hitched a few times as his cooling fans started up. A hand grasped his and began guiding his strokes.

     Surrendering himself to the taste, the scent and the feel of his seeker, Megatron relaxed into a rhythm. His face were sticky with their combined fluids, but he didn't care. He rubbed his face against the rim of his seeker's valve and then thrust his glossa inside his Star. His seeker arched his back strut as he gasped.

     Flicking his glossa against the cluster of sensors he found earlier with his fingers, Megatron's spark pounded as his lover pressed his hips back against his face. The smaller hand around his tightened and moved him faster on Star's spike. He glanced up to his lover's wings which where held upright from his back strut, tense and trembling.

     The silver mech laved his seeker's sensor cluster roughly. Star panted harshly. “Megatron,” he pleaded. He lowered his canopy to the floor and urged even faster strokes on his spike. “Meh...meh,” he stuttered, his vocalizer sounding almost pained. “I...I...oh Primus!” His frame shook uncontrollably and a gush of hot fluid spilled over Megatron's hand.

     The silver mech drew back as his lover slumped to the floor, thoroughly spent. He looked at his hand, it glistened with translucent fluid. He licked it and it was bitter much like his own. Pleased with himself, he gathered his lover in his arms and lifted him into their berth being careful of his wings. Lying down beside Star, Megatron pulled him close, the smaller mech's frame flush against his side. As the jet sleepily settled himself in, Megatron asked: "So what was that slag about claiming you earlier? You hit me pretty hard."

     "Old Vosian tradition," his Seeker said, his voice softened by exhaustion. "Strongest takes all. And I like it rough sometimes...," Starscream trailed off, venting slowing down and deepening.

     Quite sure his spark was singing as he pulled his lyric pad from his subspace, Megatron began humming the tune to Starscream's new song.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Decepticons create their legendary icon and begin composing their battle hymn, and Megatron muses on two key events in his life that changed everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: nothing explicit. Strong language.

     Early the next day found Megatron in the makeshift practice room with the rest of the Decepticons. A very steamy session in the washrack with Star as well as the experience from the previous night-cycle had left him in an incredibly good mood.

     They had run through their usual setlist rather quickly as Star seemed too content to offer his customary harsh criticisms of his bandmate's performances. His narcissistic ranting normally turned a two-joor practice session into a frustrating half-day ordeal. Skywarp and Thundercracker seemed stunned at Star's helpful suggestions but were smart enough to not question them.

     The silver mech called a break and the band moved to the other side of the room where a few padded benches were arranged. They sat and Star snuggled up next to Megatron who curled an arm around his seeker.

     “Soundwave, what do you have to report on your logo assignment?”

     “Progess report: some. Suggestions: helpful.”

     “What can you show me?” Soundwave pulled a datapad from subspace, and leaned over to pass it to Megatron, who studied the image. Star peeked at it, too.

     Before Megatron could even say anything, Star stated, “It needs to be pointier.” Soundwave just looked at him.

     “Where's your vector program on this,” he asked, tapping furiously on the datapad. “Never mind, found it.” He bit his lower lip as the program booted and he began dragging his finger across the screen. A breem passed as he tapped and dragged and traced on the datapad. The rest of the band watched him with curious optics.

     Finally, he sat back with a smug look on his face. “Oh, hold on. Hmm. There. Take a look!” He held the datapad out. The other mechs leaned close to inspect the image.

     “That's pretty rad, Screamer,” Skywarp offered, smiling.

     “Yeah, I like it, too,” added Thundercracker.

“Design: satisfactory,” Soundwave pronounced and Star glared at him.

     Megatron was impressed. Whereas the Autobot's logo was an impassive, blocky red mech's head and face, Star's logo was purple, sleek and angular and showed only optics and pointed crests on the head. It was dark and mysterious, much like his seeker who created it. “Its perfect, Star,” he said, squeezing his lover briefly. He took the datapad from his lover and forwarded the image to Shockwave indicating that it was the Decepticon's new logo. He passed the device back to Soundwave who promptly sub-spaced it.

     A buzzer sounded at the door. Thundercracker answered it and a green service-mech wheeled in a small cart loaded with energon cubes. Thundercracker pushed the cart inside the square formed by the benches after the server left and all the mechs took a cube for themselves.

     They sat in a companionable silence, sipping from their cubes. Megatron relished the peaceful quiet and the warmth radiating from the seeker next to him. If only he had known a couple good, hard frags would have calmed his tempestuous seeker, he would have done this sooner. It seemed to be good for his own mood, too.

     Setting down his empty cube, Megatron said, “Alright. Let's work on Star's song. If we make enough progress, the rest of the day is free time.” The rest of the Decepticons finished their cubes and returned to their places next to their gear. “Play it again, Star, and we'll see if those ideas we had on the transport translate.”

     Star strapped on his guitar and began playing. Thundercracker started picking notes out on his bass. Soon after, Soundwave took up a solid beat. Tentatively, Skywarp played a few lines on his keyboard. They played through the entire song as Megatron watched.

     “Good,” he commented as they finished. “What do you think, Star?”

     “Half-afted. We should just forget this,” his seeker replied nastily.

     “C'mon, Screamer! This was our first run through!” Skywarp pleaded.

     “And it was slag!” the jet huffed. “I don't know why I bothered.”

     “Its a good song, Star. We'll try harder. Play it again,” said Thundercracker, looking around at his bandmates. “Tell us what you want.”

     “I want to slag the frag out of the Autobots and the Audial! But I can't do it if you slag-heads are fragging up my song!” Star shrieked and he actually stamped his thruster.

     This not what Megatron wanted especially when he thought his lover's predictably unpredictable mood swings were over. He motioned for the other seekers to stay put as he approached the angry jet.

     “Star, this song will slag everyone. Just tell us what you want and we'll do it,” he said gently, tracing a soothing pattern on a wing.

     “I put my spark into this song and I just want these waste-ports to do the same!” the irritated seeker shouted, jerking his wing away from his lover's hand.

     “Just talk to me, Star. We'll figure this out. Did you like the beat?”

     “I want more toms.” Megatron nodded to Soundwave whose visor flashed.

     “And the bass?”

     “I want more reverb and I want some fills.” Megatron nodded to Thundercracker who nodded back and turned to adjust his amp's settings.

     “Keys?”

     “More atmosphere. An octave lower.” When Megatron looked at Skwarp, the teleporter gave him a wink.

     “Okay. Star, let's try it again.”

     “And you, Megatron? Where are the lyrics?”

     “I'm working on them. I want to do this justice and not just write another anthem.” Star gave him a strange look, not quite puzzled, but not annoyed either, as if he were weighing his leader's words.

     Sighing, Star started the song and the Decepticons joined in as he had wanted. To Megatron's surprise, his lover's angry face began to soften and he actually looked up from his guitar and grinned at his bandmates. When he hit the bridge, he shouted to Thundercracker: “Hold me down on this solo, you fragger!” TC bared his denta and laid down a thick, oily sounding bass line behind Star's solo. The song ended and Star's trinemates let loose with a cheer.

     “Almost. You almost got it,” Star warned though he was smiling. “One more time. With your sparks in it or I will rip them out myself.” TC and Warp laughed.

     “If I put anymore spark into it, I'll be bonding to my bass! Did you like my line for your solo?” asked TC.  
“Yeah, I liked it a lot. The fills were good, too.” Thundercracker did a good job hiding his surprise, but Megatron knew his optic ridges were about to arch off his face. He thought he understood his seeker, but the jet kept surprising him.

     Soundwave clicked his sticks and the Decepticons played Star's song again. It wasn't a strut-cruncher like Shockwave had requested, but by Primus, it was going to tear down the Audial, Megatron thought. He felt proud of his band and immeasurably proud of his lover and his song. But he felt even more pressure than ever to write perfect lyrics. He hoped he was up to the task.  
  
*****  
  
     That mid-day, Megatron found himself walking the streets of Helex with his Star. His seeker had never been to that city before and he took in all the sights eagerly. Megatron watched him from a few paces back. He smiled to himself, still reveling in the newness of his relationship with the brightly colored jet. Catching up with him, Megatron traced the same suggestive pattern on Star's wing that he had traced the other night. Star whirled on him.

     “Is that all you know?” he asked, optics narrowed.

     “Pretty much,” the former miner answered, shrugging his massive shoulders.

     “Let me show you one that's better,” the jet replied, reaching for one of his lover's hands. Carefully folding Megatron's fingers, Star guided the tip of one in a simple pattern on his wing a few times. “Now you do it.”

     Megatron traced the pattern twice slowly. He looked up at Star who was smiling. “What does it mean?”

     “That I'm beautiful,” Star said with a mischievous smile. Megatron laughed and traced the pattern again. “Flatter me all you want, but I will always want more.” Star turned and began walking down the walkway again.

     They strolled on further enjoying each other's company, occasionally commenting on a store or some mech passerby. In front of one store, a hobby shop, Star told Megatron to wait while he went in to get something. The silver mech watched his lover through the windows idly wondering what he was up to. Star came out a few kliks later with a small box that he sub-spaced.

     “What is that, Star?” he asked.

     “Mmm. Nothing,” the jet replied dismissively. Megatron shrugged and they resumed their leisurely pace up the avenue.

     Central Helex gleamed in the late orn light. Fashionably upgraded mechs walked about, glistening transports and alt-modes cruised the streets. Megatron felt more than a little out of place, especially next to the shiny perfection that was Starscream. Miners weren't normally seen outside of Kaon where the majority of on-world mines were and even then, not normally seen outside the mines or the mining complexes. He thought about the long journey from the mines to this coolly shining city and his resplendent lover, and the recent change in the future of his band.

     After roving Cybertron for a stellar cycle with his brother, Megatron and he signed up for work at the energon mines. They were split up and Megatron was shipped off to mining outpost C-12 on Messatine, a Cybertronian territory. He spent thousands of vorns there. The memories of his time there blurred in their sameness: online, re-fuel, check out equipment, slag it out in the mines for a shift, return equipment, recharge every day. Endless days, endless stellar cycles, endless vorns. He didn't care to attempt the calculations; it made his spark ache to think of how much time he had wasted there.

     One day, in confirmation of the rumors careening through the outpost, a Senator visited the hub and announced that C-12 would be automated and the miners would be released or reassigned. Most of the miners were upset as they had been there as long or longer than Megatron and didn't know anything else. The silver mech, who had earned the secondary designation, “Slagmaker,” not only for his prowess in the mines, but in fights with other miners, was secretly relieved. He hated every day he spent at C-12. The idea of no more drunken challenges, no more stuffy darkness, no more barracks brew, no more working himself to exhaustion every shift sounded equivalent to merging with the Allspark.

     Occasionally, Megatron had seen some holo-vids of what passed for news on Cyberton, old concert vids, entertainment vids. It seemed everyone had a better function than him. Wealthy mechs purchased upgrades to their plating, rode around in transports much like that which he now rode in with the Decepticons, attended theaters and concerts, but, most importantly to Megatron, could come and go as they pleased. He hadn't been outside the mining hub since he arrived.

     Thousands of stellar cycles had passed since he had vented atmosphere that didn't stink of pulverized rock and raw energon, since he had seen a passing sun with his naked optics. He was suddenly possessed with a burning need to be in control of his function and his frame as he was merely a sentient possession of the mining companies as long as he stayed there. Megatron applied for release the next day and was on a shuttle back to Cybertron within the deca-cycle, never looking back once he landed in Kaon.

     And Megatron remembered the day he met Star and his trinemates. He had been at their practice room in Kaon, running through old jams he'd had with his last band which had disbanded a deca-cycle before while waiting on his drummer. Soundwave had put up digi-flyers for the new band they were forming, the Decepticons, around the building looking for new members and in a few bars where musicians frequently drank and performed. As eerily silent as ever, Soundwave entered the small dingy room.

     Looking up from his lyric pad, Megatron spoke. “Been waiting for a while.”

     “Search for new members: successful.”

     “You found one?”

     “Negative. Three located.”

     Starscream strode in ahead of the others and stood, legs spread wide, in the center of the small room, his optics narrowed as he surveyed it. “I saw a digi-flyer for the Decepticons and we are here to offer our services,” he announced.

     Megatron rose to his pedes as Soundwave introduced the flyers. “Skywarp, Thundercracker and Starscream.”

     “Heh. You play?” The former miner's rough voice was tinged with amusement.

     Starscream snorted. “We are the very finest. I am a guitarist, Thundercracker is a bassist and Skywarp plays keyboards.”

     “That's what we were looking for. Got your equipment for an audition?” Megatron felt skeptical and secretly hoped this conceited jet and his pals would just leave.

     “TC, Warp, bring our equipment. We're going show this fragger how we do it in Vos,” he said still facing Megatron. The other two seekers left silently and Starscream and the silver mech stared each other down just as silently. The jets returned a breem later carrying practice amps, instrument cases slung awkwardly over their shoulders. They set it all up as the others watched.

     “What song would you like us to rock your face off with?” the red flier sneered as he strapped on his guitar.

     “Do you know 'Raining Acid?'” Megatron asked, knowing it was a simple, but popular song. The jet scoffed.

     “Of course, even younglings know that one.”

     “Then fragging play it.”

     “Is your friend going to provide some rhythm?”

     “Soundwave.”

     Three clicks of the drummer's sticks cued the song. The seekers played it easily enough so Megatron cut them off after two kliks. “How about 'Peace Sells?'”

     They played another few kliks' worth of that song before Megatron cut them off again.

     “These isn't showing you what we can do,” the jet declared.

     “Then by all means.” Megatron waved his hand at them.

     “Drummer: 'Scrapyard Gates.'” Soundwave nodded and clicked his sticks again. It was a heavy song with complicated fretwork and Starscream pulled it off with ease. Megatron was impressed, but he still needed more proof.

     When the song ended, Megatron kept his face looking bored. “Got anything else?”

     “A song I wrote. Drummer, its fast. Try to keep up.” The seeker snapped his fingers and then tore into a burning lead. The other two joined him after a few measures and Soundwave quickly found the beat. Megatron found himself nodding his head despite himself and he definitely began to respect the musicianship of the trine in front of him.

     The energy coming off the seekers was palpable. Megatron figured it might have something to do with the trine-bond he'd heard fliers sharing, but whatever it was, he knew it would charge up the crowds. When Starscream's solo came, the notes soared across the room and he and Thundercracker leaned against each other with their back-struts together, guitars held out from their frames. Their showmechship was also undeniable. Megatron would have been a fool to deny these musicians a place in the Decepticons even had they been half as talented. With a flourish like he was performing in an arena, Starscream squealed out the final note of the song and held it, a look of challenge and triumph on his face as he met Megatron's optics.

     Megatron clapped slowly as he approached the trine. “Very good. Soundwave, thoughts?”

     “Seekers: provide valuable contribution to Decepticon cause.”

     “That's what I thought, too. Welcome to the faction, seekers.”

     The two jets who had been silent up to this point, smiled at each other and high-fived. Their seeming leader merely sneered and unstrapped his guitar. The new Decepticons had rehearsed for quartexes before finally booking a show. Their first planetary tour began soon after that as comms about their performances spread and the views on their vids on the Yox skyrocketed.

     And now Megatron found himself here in Helex with that same screechy, demanding seeker as his lover and his band beginning what he believed to be a meteoric ascent to rockstardom.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shameless MegaScream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: explicit sticky.

     For the next few days, the Decepticons practiced in their make-shift room in the mornings and then had the mid- and night-cycles to spend as they pleased. Soundwave practiced quietly in his room for a few extra hours; TC and Warp alternated between naps and mischief; and Star and Megatron wandered the streets of Helex.

     Having doled out fair amounts of shanix to the others after each practice so they could enjoy themselves, Megatron felt better about spending credits on himself and his Star. They had gone to see a mass-vid at a nearby theater because Star had seen a digi-flyer for it at their lodging. It had been a war vid full of action and ridiculous fire-fights. Star's optics had been wide and even his constantly twitching wings slowed down.

     After the vid, as Star re-enacted his favorite scenes out loud, Megatron led him to a datalibrary and selected a few interesting-looking datapads to read on the road to Tesarus and Iacon. Mechs stared and tutted at the noise the jet was making but Megatron glared them down from his full height until they hastily turned away. Patting his seeker on his aft, Megatron paid for his datapads and they went back out onto the walkway.

     “Megatron,” Star began.

     “Hmm?”

     “What are we doing tomorrow?”

     “Dunno. I saw a digi-flyer for an exhibition at the art museum I'd like to see.”

     “You know, looking at that bucket head of yours, no mech would think you like things like datapads on Cybertronian history and museum exhibitions.” The jet smirked but it was gentle, not cruel.

     Megatron laughed. “And looking at that paintjob, most mechs would think you were a pleasure-bot.”

     Star stopped walking abruptly and his expression grew dark.

     Megatron's smile faltered. “What?”

     “Why would you say that to me,” the jet hissed. His wings moved in tight, angry jerks.

     “It was a joke. You said I had a bucket head.”

     His seeker's optics narrowed while their red light grew deeper. “You need to shut the frag up with your jokes.” Megatron held his hands out in a placating manner.

     “I didn't mean anything by it. You just....” Megatron stopped himself before he dug his grave deeper.

     “I just what?” The last word was a growl.

     “Nothing,” he said, trying to keep his voice and face as cool and neutral as possible. He didn't understand what the jet was so angry about since he had started the insult game, but he just wanted it to be over or his temper would start to flare up, too. He decided to change the subject. “Why did you ask about our plans for tomorrow? Was there something you wanted to do?”

     His Star blinked slowly, cycled his vents and seemed to relax a bit. “I have some personal errands to run.”

     Megatron arched an optical ridge but decided not to stoke the seeker's temper further. “That's fine. I can read one of my new pads.” He tested out a small smile and the last of his jet's sudden anger drained from his face and he commenced walking again.

     They walked for another hour, stopping at a small bar for a drink. Looking around the dark interior, Star spotted a digi-flyer for the show at the Audial on a wall. He nearly toppled the small table in his rush to go over and read it. He pulled it off the wall and brought it back to his lover, his excitement barely suppressed.

     The silver mech took it and a grin stole over his face as he read, “With special guests: the Decepticons,” beside their new logo on the flyer. One other band's name was below theirs, but he didn't recognize them. One band was between them at the Autobots and the Constructicons. Close enough, he thought as he watched the headliners' names fade into promo shots of the two bands.

     He studied the Autobots' vocalist and guitarist, Orion Pax, and chuckled evilly as the thought of how the Decepticons were going to steal the show right out from under the biggest rock bands on Cybertron. Megatron glanced up to see Star leaning in close, his optics bright and intense with what he judged to be a similarly cruel look on his face.

     “You don't even have to say it, Megatron,” Star rasped before taking the digi-flyer back and sub-spacing it. They finished their drinks and headed back to their lodging.

     That night-cycle in the berth, Star was insatiable. He pushed and pulled his lover and his vocalizations were absolutely filthy and Megatron could not get enough of his raunchy jet. It seemed like the seeker's unpredictable moods were sublimating into unpredictable yet incredibly hot 'facing.

     Finally, they were pressed chest plating to cockpit, grinding together furiously. Megatron nipped at Star's shoulder vent while he worked in and out of his jet's valve. He was so intent on his movements and the heat radiating from his lover than he didn't notice Star's wayward hand trailing down his back strut to his aft.

     Star squeezed, then patted, then slapped. Megatron grunted in response but didn't falter. His jet's fingers teased and squeezed again, moving closer to the junction of his thighs. The other hand slid from the blocky silver shoulder to wrap around the back of Megatron's neck cables. More squeezing and searching from the lower hand while the other worked its fingers between his neck cables. Megatron groaned but kept pace. He had no idea what his seeker was after but it felt good...until he heard a soft click and cool air ghosted over his valve. His hips paused, his optics focused and he pulled his head back until that sneaky blue hand tightened its grip on his cables and forced him back down.

     “What are you doing?” he growled.

     An answering snarl in his audial replied, “Giving you an amazing overload.” That was followed by a long slow tease of the edge of his head by Star's glossa.

     Megatron tried to pull his head back again, but his jet held him immobile.

     “Trust me. Now get back to pounding me. And don't stop.” The raspy command turned the silver mech on much more than he would have imagined. A sharp slap on the aft got him moving again and his focus narrowed down to Star's valve and his spike in it.

     He felt his jet's hand cup his aft and then slide toward his valve. His thrusting faltered and both the hand in his neck cables and the hand on his aft squeezed almost painfully.

     “Don't you stop, you primitive screwhead. Focus your sorry processor,” came another rasp.

     “I...” Megatron started.

     “Shut up. I didn't tell you to talk; I told you to frag me. You will like this.” A finger lazily brushed the rim of his valve. Megatron winced and started to lift himself away but Star wrapped a long leg over his and held him. The silver mech has never had his valve touched by another mech before and thinking about Star touching it made him feel nervous but strangely excited. It reminded him of how he felt before every show as he stood in the wings waiting to take his place front and center, and he relaxed with that thought. He felt heat spreading through his frame and began riding his jet again.

     “Done thinking? Good.” Star pulled him by the neck cables and laid an aggressive kiss on him. That stray finger brushed his valve him again and he shuddered but he wasn't sure if it was from awkwardness or pleasure. His jet's glossa worked deeper into his mouth and Megatron sucked it greedily. The next brush of his valve did feel really good and he pushed into the touch.

     Star chuckled into his mouth and bared his denta in a wicked smile as he broke their kiss. “You will beg for this, you fragging drone.” Megatron grunted and a firmer touch pressed against his valve. He sank his denta into Star's shoulder vent and received a moan and another firm touch from his seeker. When his jet circled his rim slowly, Megatron gasped and ground hard into his Star.

     Another laugh. “Now you're wet and ready.” The finger slid into Megatron's wetness and the silver mech shuddered and his optics flickered. “Mmm, very wet and tight.” A minute of deepening thrusts loosened Megatron's valve enough for a second finger and the ex-miner growled at the feeling of being stretched. Every time he pulled back from Star, the fingers pushed in. It was an amazing counterpoint to his jet's valve and he felt heat rapidly gathering around his interface panels.

     Between his gloriously wanton moans, Star grated out, “Let me hear how good this feels, you filthy glitch.” Megatron's venting grew ragged and he matched his seeker moan for moan, groan for groan. Then the thrusting fingers curled up inside his valve and a wordless vocalization tore itself from his mouth. And then, “Yes, Star, yes. Frag yes.” The silver mech lost all processor control and rutted wildy on his jet whose valve was growing tighter and wetter by the thrust.

     Their interfacing became a whirl of sensation and sound and both mechs lost themselves completely in the act. Thrust, counter-thrust, lubricants, condensation and impossible heat. Megatron became dimly aware that he was approaching overload and as both the familiar tightness around his spike and the new but amazing tightness in his valve strained his sensors, he heard an urgent, strained whisper, “My wings, you fool. My wings.”

     He shifted slightly and raked a hand slowly down Star's smooth white wing and his seeker's last code of control broke and he screamed his overload. His valve tightened impossibly with contraction after contraction and his fingers inside Megatron scissored, curled and dragged harshly across the ex-miner's sensor cluster. Megatron couldn't even vocalize or gasp as overload burned through his frame.

     His vents stuttered and a shudder so strong it was almost painful shook his frame. He felt like he couldn't get an intake and his optics went round and bright and then cycled involuntarily. Warnings flashed across his visual feed faster then he could even process them. His valve was spasming as was his spike and he felt like he was going into stasis lock. Then the shuddering slowed and his vents roared along with his cooling fans and he dropped gracelessly on top of his seeker.

     Megatron was vaguely aware of weight over his neck and shoulders and soft touches on his head. His optics onlined and found he was lying on top of Star who had his arms wrapped around the larger mech and was kissing his head. His seeker smiled slyly.

     “Online finally?”

     “Mmm.” His jet laughed a bright laugh.

     “Can't even talk. Rustheap.” Another kiss to his head and a gentle stroke down his face. “This is nice, but you're pinning my wings. Move.”

     “Give me a minute,” he mumbled trying to send commands to his limbs. Star watched with amused optics as Megatron lifted himself off and over in a wobbly fashion, a joint or two creaking in protest, before collapsing back onto the berth.

     “How ancient are you? I think I broke you,” his seeker teased.

     “You did. I think I went into stasis lock.”

     “Not quite. You were only out for a breem.” Another bright, delighted laugh.

     “A breem? Primus.”

     “A breem is just enough. Just a minute or two would have been disappointing.” Megatron couldn't help but smile. That glitchy seeker always had to make it about his ego.

     “I need to recharge. I'm not even fully online,” Megatron slurred, his systems already powering down.

     Sitting up, his Star rearranged his wings behind his back and laid down on his side facing his silver lover. He scooted closer and draped a heavy arm over his frame carefully.

     “Good night-cycle, Megatron,” he whispered but the big mech was already down in recharge.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That joy of joys: band merchandise designed by mechs without the appropriate cool/lame programming.

     Early the next day, Star woke Megatron and led him to the washrack where he scrubbed away all traces of dried fluids from their frames. Of course, he managed be to very seductive in his scrubbing even going as far as to kneel to scrub his lover's pedes.

     Megatron watched him appreciatively, but resisted claiming his seeker then and there. He still felt disoriented from their 'facing the previous night-cycle. Maybe he did blow part of his processor, he thought. If it didn't clear up, he'd have Soundwave run a cursory scan. He knew he could trust the navy mech to keep his intake shut if he happened to mention how his processor might have been damaged.

     After drying off and a quick polish for Star, they made their way to the practice room with fresh cubes of energon in hand. The other Decepticons arrived a few kliks later and Megatron was grateful for it. He really didn't feel up to being a tyrant at this point in the day, especially not on this day.

     Practice went even better than the previous days and they got through two runs of their set and quite a few runs of Star's new song. Their new song. It was even more than any of them had hoped for. That song was going to seal their victory in Iacon.

     After the final play-through, Star turned to his leader. “Lyrics, Megatron. This song needs lyrics so we can get the timing right.”

     Megatron faltered as Star scowled. He watched his lover's wings hike up into a position that said one of his tirades was coming if he didn't like the answer and Megatron fought the urge to pull his hand down his face.

     “Tomorrow. Definitely,” he said trying to sound confident. He felt like cycling his optics at himself that this shrieky seeker, who had fragged him senseless last night-cycle, was cowing him in front of his band.

     “We have less than one deca-cycle!” his jet shouted.

     “I know. It will be perfect,” he said. When his seeker loudly reset his vocalizer to raise the volume on his tantrum, Megatron cut in and said in his most forceful tone, “Trust me. You will like it.”

     Star's vents hitched violently and he barked a sharp, short laugh and then coughed. The ex-miner laughed, too, and went to hug his seeker. The coughing ended and his jet snickered against the big mech's chest plating.

     TC and Warp were terribly confused. Megatron usually cut Screamer's tantrums short with threats or actual violence so they had no idea what had just happened. Warp tapped his head and stuck his glossa out. TC nodded, optics wide. But it was Soundwave who brought it all down.

     “Recommend: full diagnostic scan. Glitches: 100 percent probability.” After a second's silence, the room erupted into laughter. Megatron and Star leaned together, Warp doubled over hugging himself and TC clung to his stack. Soundwave's visor pulsed and he played a little riff on his kit. Warp finally fell on his aft and eventually the laughter slowed to a trickle.

     “I gotta wipe my optics,” Warp wheezed, rubbing lubricant from his face. TC pulled him to his thrusters and patted him on the arm. “What now, Megatron? We can't practice anymore today.”

     Just as their leader was going to speak, a beep sounded and a generically pleasant voice spoke on the room's comm unit to alert them to a delivery at the front desk.

     The Decepticons exchanged looks and then filed out of the room. At the front desk, Megatron elbowed a bouncing Warp out of the way and signed for the package. “Ow, Megz. Did you really have to do that? I think my tank shifted,” Warp whined, rubbing his plating.

     “Bite my aft." Then, "What is this?” He shook the box but nothing rattled. Star peeked over his arm and pointed to a tag.

     “Its from Shockwave's offices.”

     “Interesting. Let's see what it is,” the ex-miner said and led them back to their practice room. He and Star sat on a bench and the other Decepticons crowded around as he pried open the package. A mini-pad sat on top and he powered it up.

     It read:

     “My dear Decepticons: Your new merchandise arrived yesterday and I dispatched some samples to you in Helex. The logo is to the specifications I was sent. I am in Iacon awaiting your arrival. To the future! Shockwave.”

     “Merch!” Skywarp nearly toppled onto the sitting mechs in his eagerness to raid the package. Soundwave put out an arm and held him back which earned him a cross look.

     Their leader lifted out the first sample, a folded mesh. He shook it out to reveal a small dark gray banner with their logo printed on it. They all looked at it until Megatron shook it in Warp's direction. The jet took it and stared at it.

     “So much for that,” Star spat.

     Next, Megatron pulled out a handful of decals which were also their logo. TC brightened as he took one. “I can put this on my bass. Make it legit!” Star huffed.

     Megatron pulled out a series of cheap and increasingly disappointing samples. Star's huffing grew louder and more indignant until he finally ground out, “Oh, this is so big-time,” and stalked off to fiddle with his stack.

     “There's something else, Star!” TC called out while peering down into the box.

     “Frag it! Its all scrap!”

     “This might actually be bad-aft,” Megatron said, lifting out a clump of magnetized metal. He turned it in his servos and the clump was metallic purple logos.

     “Magnets?” Warp said with his optics wide.

     The silver mech pried one off the clump and slapped it on Warp's chest-plating. “Stick-on logo, slag-head.”

     “Oh,” said the purple seeker as he pried the magnet off himself and examined it. TC and Soundwave each took one. Star stalked back over and snatched Soundwave's. He looked at it and then twisted to apply it to his wing. Then he took TC's and put it on the other wing. He faced them with a smug smile.

     “That will do for now. At least it wasn't all slag that mechs will laugh at us for.” He swayed and flicked his wings admiringly. “Now, I have things to do. Good-bye.” Spinning on his thruster heel, he left the room with his head held high.

     “I just don't...,” TC trailed off, watching the exit Star had taken.

     “I know. Believe me, I know,” said Megatron as he stuffed all the samples back in the box and stood. “Tomorrow, one set and then Star's song until its done. No more fragging around. We'll be in Iacon next deca-cycle to blow that place up. Dismissed.”

     They all left; TC and Warp heading out the lobby doors and Megatron and Soundwave riding the lift together in silence. At their floor, Megatron stepped out first but kept pace with his drummer.

     “I'm going to take a quick recharge. If I'm not feeling well when I online, I want you to run a quick scan on me,” he said when they reached their rooms.

     “Affirmative. Query?” Soundwave said flatly.

     “Its not a big deal. I just feel kind of...foggy.” Soundwave nodded and went into his room. Megatron entered his room and laid on his berth. His and Star's berth, he corrected himself. Still, it was nice to stretch his frame out completely and not have to worry about crushing wings. He vented a sigh and shifted lazily. He idly wondered about Star's “personal errands,” but his processor soon slowed and he fell into recharge.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Decepticons finish writing the song they hope will end the Autobots' reign as Cybertron's top rock band.

     When he awoke a few joors later, Megatron's room was dim. He had recharged into the early night-cycle. He looked for Star on the opposite berth but his seeker wasn't there. He was about to comm his jet when his comm unit pinged. He jumped a little and then laughed before answering it.

     It was Shockwave and he sounded even more obnoxiously cheerful to Megatron's internal audio receptors. Shockwave confirmed the delivery of the merch samples and the time they were expected at his offices in Iacon.

     After cutting the signal, Megatron laid back down and stared at the ceiling, venting slowly. He opened a comm to Soundwave who answered promptly. ::Come run that scan. Our manager just comm'd me and I feel like he scrambled my processor.::

     ::Shockwave: viral slag. Arrival for scan: one minute :: A minute after the comm closed, Soundwave came in silently and moved a chair to the side of Megatron's berth.

     “Query: full diagnostic?”

     “No. Just a processor scan,” Megatron sighed, rolling to his side away from his drummer.

     Soundwave shifted some plating along his arm and pulled a cable from the circuitry beneath. He connected it to a hidden port among his leader's neck cables. “Scan: commencing.”

     The silver mech winced. He hated scans like this where he could feel another mech's presence inside his head; it felt like tentacles caressing his processor thought he knew it was a purely digital connection. He'd had to undergo routine scans at the mines to assure he wasn't developing mine-panic which caused quite a few costly accidents in the complexes every year. He'd always passed but he still didn't enjoy them.

     After a breem, Soundwave disconnected the cable and returned it to its place beneath his plating. “Analysis: pending.” Megatron rolled back to lie flat on his berth and tried not to think about why he was having this scan in the first place. So he cleared his processor and stared at the ceiling.

     Soon, Soundwave beeped and said, “Scan result: incidental damage to processor due to power surge.” Megatron was sure he could hear the judgment in that flat voice. “Prognosis: self-repair routines can override against long-term malfunction.”

     “So it's not serious?” Megatron asked, keeping his voice casual.

     “Status: mild damage. Recommendation: minor repairs after the Audial show. Recommendation: do not repeat event.” Megatron definitely heard the judgment then.

     “Fine. I'll try to get more recharge in this night-cycle.” Soundwave nodded, stood and left the room. The silver mech settled himself again but couldn't fall back into recharge. He pulled a new datapad from sub-space and read it idly for a few minutes.

     When that didn't stimulate him enough, he returned it to sub-space and pulled out his lyric pad. The hours were counting down and he had to have the perfect lyrics for Star's song or there would be an all-out brawl in the practice room tomorrow.

     He tutted at himself for wanting to avoid another of his lover's tantrums, but he knew he could beat the jet with one hand if it came to that. He wanted to win Star's spark and he wanted to do it with this song. His own spark felt swollen much like it had since their first night-cycle together. Megatron had never been a kind mech or a romantic mech, but it made him happy to see Star happy and he wondered what had happened to him in the few days – and night-cycles – of intimacy with his seeker.

     He waved his hand at no mech in particular as if to dismiss his wondering and focused on the pad again; he would write this song for his dazzling seeker. Frowning, Megatron began tapping away at the small screen.

     About an hour later, as Megatron was puzzling between two words, Starscream sauntered into the room and planted his thrusters in the center of it. The ex-miner looked up and arched his optic ridges. His lover was sporting a freshly painted frame. Even in the dim room light, Star gleamed like the energon veins Megatron had mined for thousands of stellar cycles. His hands twitched with the need to touch his jet and slide over his shiny plating.

     Seeing his reaction, Star warned, “Look, but don't touch. This is for Iacon.”

     “Ha. I can resist,” Megatron leered.

     “I'm sure you can.”

     “Anyway, no 'facing this night-cycle. Medic's orders.”

     “Medic's orders? Did you trip a circuit?”

     “Your wild ways singed my processor so I need to rest.”

     His jet sputtered but recovered quickly. “My wild ways.... You were the mech who couldn't control himself.”

     Crossing his arms over his chest-plating, Megatron said, “My processor isn't so singed that I don't remember how you demonstrated the way you earned your designation.”

     “That's not why I have that designation. You're just a vile wretch,” his Star huffed then turned away to admire himself. “Stellar. Absolutely stellar,” he purred.

     The ex-miner looked at his jet wryly and then cycled his optics. “If you're going to do that all night-cycle, I'm going to keep working.”

     “What are you working on?” Star asked absently over a shoulder vent.

     “Lyrics to your song.”

     The jet spun around and marched over to Megatron's berth. “Show me.”

     “Nope. Top secret until tomorrow,” the larger mech teased, yanking the pad away from his seeker's reaching hands.

     Star made to grab at the pad again and the larger mech put a hand out, “Can't have you scratching your new paint.” Star narrowed his optics and frowned.

     “You're a brute. You're going to ruin all my work! I can't imagine you writing anything but another rehash of 'Run to the Hills' like all your other songs!”

     “This is me not giving a frag and getting back to work,” Megatron said, resettling himself on his berth. His optic ridges drew together in concentration and then arched as he found the word he had been searching for when Star returned. “And recharge in your own berth this night-cycle, I might scratch your paint.”

     He didn't look up to see the hurt look in his jet's optics, but he vented a sigh when he heard thrusters stomping out of the door.

     Star hadn't returned by the time he prepared for recharge, but the satisfaction of having completed what Megatron felt were the perfect lyrics to Star's song dulled the disappointment of not being able to at least kiss his lover good night-cycle.

*****

     When Megatron onlined the next morning, Star's berth was empty and untouched. As he sipped his energon on the way to the practice room, he steeled himself for a battle. Soundwave was waiting for him and they waited for the seekers together in a tense silence.

     Two breems later, the rest of the Decepticons arrived with TC and Warp walking in like an advance guard for Star. All three had sour, accusing looks on their faces. Their trineleader didn't even acknowledge Megatron as he strapped on his guitar, but his trinemates glared at the silver mech.

     Standing from the bench where he sat, Megatron wished he had three ditzy, over-excited seekers in front of him rather than the angry, brooding ones that he did have. He wondered what Star had told them and how late they had kept Soundwave up with their talking. He shrugged knowing Soundwave wouldn't complain openly and then cleared his vocalizer.

     “As I said yesterday, we do one run-through of our set and then finish Star's song to the note. I don't care if we're here all orn.” He heard Star mutter something. “What was that?”

     “I said: you don't really care about anything,” the jet said, anger and hurt mingling in his voice.

     The Unmaker take me, Megatron thought; his mood had taken a hard turn when the trine had shown up fragged off and so help him, he wasn't going to rip their wings off right before the biggest show in their careers. But he could have a slaggy attitude about it. “I care about sealing the deal with Shockwave and sending the Autobots packing. Let's do this.”

     The run-through of their set was about as stilted and tense as Megatron could have ever imagined, but he couldn't chastise anyone because every note, every riff was perfect. He wasn't sure if it made him angrier that the seekers were being spoiled sparklings ruining the mood of what should have been an easy practice or that he couldn't even yell at them because only their attitudes sucked. He also pretended he didn't hear Star sniffling between songs.

     “Alright. Next up, Star's song. Lyrics are ready,” he growled, pulling his pad from sub-space. In a more neutral voice, he added, “Since it's clocking in at just over four minutes, I kept it to the music as it was.”

     The jets looked at him blankly until Soundwave cued the song. Megatron vented hard as the Decepticons moved into the first verse and growled the lines:

     “O Destiny, how it pleases you

     To caress a few

     And molest others.

Today, Destiny, you will be harnessed.

     You will be ridden and forced.

     Today is the day we stop blowing with the wind.

     Today is the day we ride!”

In the beats between the verse and the chorus, Megatron noticed Star watching him intently, his expression inscrutable. Frag it, he thought, and snarled the next lines:

     “We are the forgotten trying to forget.

     We are without fear.

     We will make our mark upon this world

     Til all are one!”

     The next verse and chorus saw the energy level in the room rising. Star's solo transformed the entire practice and Megatron felt something oddly magical about it. He never found himself excited much by rehearsals, but he was now and he improvised the ending with his fist in the air:

     “Ride to ruin and the world's ending!

     Til all are one!”

The final notes hadn't even faded from the amps when the seekers' cheers drowned them out.

     “Blessed fraggin slag!” Warp ran up to clap Megatron hard on the shoulder plating.

     “Way to go, Megz!” TC shouted through a lop-sided grin as he followed Warp's lead.

     “Analysis: Autobots doomed.”

     The cheers went on for a minute more, TC and Warp clamoring for more and demanding to know how he came up with the lyrics. Over their shoulder vents, Megatron glanced at Star whose face were still inscrutable. Taking a chance, he said, “No comment from my Second-in-Command?”

     Star stalked over, grabbed his leader's head and pulled him down to face level. “Frag my paint. I forgive you everything. I just....” he trailed off. Megatron grinned wildly and then his Star kissed him hard and deep. The other jets started a fresh round of cheering. The silver mech broke the kiss laughing. “More this night-cycle, my Star. Round two, Decepticons?”

     “Wait. What's the song called?” Warp chirped, back at his keyboard.

     Star cut in, “Til All Are One.” He turned his burning optics on his lover and then went back to his stack. “Round two!”

     Another two hours of practice found the song tweaked and polished both lyrically and musically. Excited but exhausted, the Decepticons broke for energon and sat talking animatedly. Star took his place next to Megatron and the big mech curled an arm around his seeker.

     “We're gonna de-fraggin-stroy the Audial next deca-cycle,” Warp bubbled.

     “Yeah, those Autobots will cancel their set when they hear 'Til All Are One,'” ventured TC.

     “And the Constructicons, too!” Warp added.

     “Recommendation: use as set finale.”

     “Of course,” Megatron confirmed, nodding. “It's only fitting that we rock every aft there and then leave smoking ruins for the Autobots to play to.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The city-state of Tesarus didn't stand a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: nothing explicit, just bad language. And a teensy, tiny cameo.

     Early the next day, the Decepticons loaded their equipment into their transport and traveled to Tesarus. It was a smaller city than either Tarn and Helex and much, much smaller than the capitol, Iacon, but there was a thriving music scene there.

     The trip was quiet, but tense. Only a few days remained until their show with the Autobots. Soundwave tapped on his practice pad and Star strummed his guitar. Content with merely sitting and listening to the soft sounds of drumsticks and guitar strings, Megatron relaxed on a bench in the passenger compartment.

     Hours later, TC and Warp shifted excitedly when the outskirts of Tesarus began to slide past their transport's windows. Star and Soundwave paused in their practices to observe the landscape. Noticing the absence of music, Megatron onlined his optics and followed the other Decepticons' gazes. He cycled a deep intake. This was it, he thought; their functions as they knew them where one show away from changing drastically. Pride surged in his spark.

     Star turned to his lover and smiled excitedly, genuinely, and Megatron felt his spark lurch. He returned an equally genuine smile. The red jet joined his trine-mates at the windows and startled as he noticed mechs on the walkways peering curiously at their passing transport.

     “I'm surprised Shockwave hasn't arranged for a procession to lead us to Iacon,” the band leader muttered. Star looked hopeful and the silver mech groaned. “No.” His seeker huffed slightly and returned his optics to the    scenes outside.

     The Cube was a small building in a bustling, but older sector of Tesarus. Mechs with odd-colored paintjobs and fascinating upgrades were everywhere. The loading dock was located in the front of the building and the door was up, mechs going to and fro with stacks of heavy cases.

     A shapely red mech sporting painted flames his chest-plating stepped out of the club as Megatron and the Decepticons exited their transport. He extended a hand.

     “Mecha...the Decepticons. Nice ride. Heard about your killer show in Helex a few days ago. Way stoked to have you at The Cube this night-cycle,” he drawled in a curious way.

     Megatron took his hand and gave it a shake. “You're the...” he trailed off.

     “I own this place, my mech! And my band, Hot Rodimus, is the headliner!” The red mech said, clapping Megatron on the shoulder. “Designation: Hot Rod. You need help with your gear?”

     “Just show us where to set-up.”

     “No problem,” Hot Rod said, turning and heading back into the club. The Decepticons followed save for Soundwave who started to pull his drum cases from the back of the transport. “You can set up here.” The car-former pointed to a clear area along the side of the club near the stage. “Soundcheck starts in half an hour.”

     “I'll hold this spot,” Star said, leaning carefully against the club's wall. The other Decepticons frowned knowing full well that 'holding the spot' meant they would be loading all of Star's equipment in themselves. TC cycled his optics as he turned so Star wouldn't see him and guided Warp back to the transport.

     Megatron threw a look over his shoulder as his lover as he left the club and he saw Star give him a mischievous grin. The former miner cycled his optics then, too, but he was smiling.

     The Decepticons worked quickly and were ready for soundcheck ahead of schedule. Two other bands came and went and they made a few quiet comments about them; it seemed like a good bill for the night-cycle.

     The soundcheck went well though the soundmech was the not same as in Helex. Megatron felt his tension sublimating into his usual pre-show excitement when the doors finally opened and mechs started gathering inside The Cube.

     Warp peeked out from the backstage and turned back with a wide grin. “Its going to be packed this night-cycle! Doors just opened and there's already mechs everywhere!”

     “More incentive to kick aft then,” Megatron growled.

     “I'll kick their afts. And their processors and all the slag in between,” Star said fiercely. Feeling his spark lurch once again, the silver mech brushed a hand gently along his seeker's wing and Star turned to him with a cruel grin.

     “Decepticon domination!” He shouted and the others took up the cry.

     As the second band carried their gear off stage, the Decepticons huddled together before taking their places. TC and Star had their guitars strapped on and Warp was flexing his hands.

     “This is it, Decepticons,” Megatron began. “From this moment on, we're set to blast. No looking back, no frag-ups, no slacking, we put our sparks into this like we do every show. Our cause is the truth. Now, let's tear this place the frag down!”

     The others rallied to him and charged onto the now dark stage. Mechs hooted and hollered as the lights came up to reveal the Decepticons poised to bring the sound and the fury.

     They opened with a crash and Megatron lunged forward, rasping the first lines of “Breakin' The Law.” He led the Decepticons through their set, condensation building on their heated frames, the crowd howling for more after every song.

     Before their final song, he glanced at his bandmates. Each face was exhausted, but determined. Star and TC nodded to him and he stepped to the front of the stage. The crowd's noise quieted slightly as he lifted his mic to his lips.

     “This is our last song for the night-cycle, fraggers.” Mixed cheers and boos came back immediately. He reached down to slap a few raised hands. “Every mech on his pedes for this one. Front to back, side to side,” Megatron growled. “'Rust In Peace!'”

     Soundwave started the ferocious drumbeats, the rest joining in quickly. The former miner grinned savagely as he saw the crowd push forward as one. He motioned for more and the crowd surged again. He laughed.

     Minutes later, on his final word, the song ended abruptly. The silence was disorienting, but a second later, the crowd exploded. Shouts, whistles, the clangs of fists slamming plating and stamping pedes combined into a cacophony of wild applause.

     Megatron smirked as he raised his arms out and away from his frame. Standing there, frame strained and steaming, he listened to another battalion in his army. Iacon was next for conversion.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Decepticons arrive in Iacon, and several surprises are in store for Megatron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: explicit sticky & coarse language.

     The next day, Megatron onlined face-down in his berth. He cycled a few intakes before trying to roll over, but a weight against his side and shoulder kept him pinned. Turning his head, he saw his Star still in recharge, draped over his back-strut.

     They hadn't gotten over-energized. Hot Rod had bought them all drinks after the show, but after the first round, Megatron and Star were in a hurry to get back to their lodging. When the other seekers had started to complain, he had told them to shut the frag up and go drink in the lodging bar if they wanted to get slagged. They hadn't argued since those drinks would be on Shockwave's tab.

     Memory files of Star telling Megatron how his command of the crowd at The Cube had turned him on pinged for his attention. The former miner's cooling fans clicked on as he remembered the tickle of that sleazy purr in his audial. When he replayed how his seeker's mouth had worked his spike after that, he felt heat start to gather in his interface panel.

     With that vid-file looping in his processor, Megatron shuffled Star off his back-strut. The jet grumbled sleepily but didn't online. The silver mech stroked his seeker's wings gently and they fluttered in response. Being like most grounders, Megatron found the wings of flight-capable mechs fascinating. Leaning over, he pressed reverent kisses to the smooth white metal.

     “Mmm. That feels good,” came a raspy whisper.

     More kisses and gentle fingers tracing seams were the reply. Star settled himself on his cockpit with his head cradled in his arms and sighed contentedly.

     “What's gotten into your head, slagger? Not that I mind.”

     The former miner paused his kisses long enough to say, “Trying something different.”

     “Do go on; I won't stop you.” By the way his wings were responding, Megatron knew this was just what his Star liked. His glossa slipped out and licked a joint along Star's back-strut, drawing a moan. Megatron could detect oil and condensation as well as faint traces of his jet's polish; a delicious sensation that he wanted more of.

     Following the trailing edge of one wing, he sampled that taste from joint to tip, moving his frame as he did. Star turned his head to watch, and the big mech slid his glossa along the sharp point, his optics holding his jet's flaring optics steadily.

     “That's a pit of a way to wake up,” his seeker purred, sitting up and pulling his leader into a deep kiss. The silver mech's hands took up jet's wings again. He didn't pause when his seeker's hand found his spike housing and scratched the plating. He obliged by freeing his spike into Star's waiting hand.

     After a few slow strokes that left Megatron's fans on high, he let Star ease him onto his back-strut.

     With a soft sigh, Star lowered himself down on to the silver mech's spike. His wings fanned out behind him in a relaxed manner. He moved slowly, gently, his head tilted back and his optics offline. Megatron watched him with hands resting lightly on Star's hips. His jet's fingers were splayed out on his chest plating.

     An idea sparked in Megatron's processor and he sat up. Cupping his seeker's aft, he licked the housing of Star's lazily spinning turbine. Star rewarded him with a moan and the big mech grew more adventurous with his explorations.

     He licked just inside the housing and then latched his mouth onto the cap of the shaft, sucking, licking the small nub of metal. A hand clutched the back of his head and pressed his face firmly against the turbine. His jet continued to move slowly, adding a roll of his hips on the down-stroke.

     Megatron growled around the metal in his mouth and reaching his hand up to Star's other turbine, began stroking the blades inside it, spinning it slowly with a fingertip.

     “Oh yes. Oh yes,” his jet urged breathlessly. “Don't stop. Yes. There. Oh.” Megatron sucked greedily at the metal in his mouth; he loved reducing his jet to helplessness. His optics looked up at Star's face which was slack with pleasure.

     “Don't stop. You're gonna make me overload. Oh yes.” The urgent whisper was growing more desperate with each word. His seeker's optics flashed online and said, “I want to see your glossa licking me.”

     The silver mech obliged, pulling his lips back to reveal his glossa sliding and flicking against the turbine cap. Star watched it intently for a few nano-kliks and then overloaded with a hiss. He rode out the pleasure on Megatron's spike and then slumped against his lover's frame.

     “You overloaded so fast,” Megatron said.

     “Mmm. It was good. Switch,” his jet replied, lifting himself off and motioning for Megatron to move. Star took his place on the berth and spread his legs in invitation. The former miner entered him and began moving, his arms on either side of Star's shoulder vents. His jet threw a leg over his hips and stroked his face. Megatron felt his spark pounding in its chamber. He didn't want to think about what he felt for his beautiful seeker beneath him, so he cleared his processor and set to bringing himself to overload.

     Even though he kept his strokes slow and deliberate, it didn't take him long; Star was always so much wetter after an overload. With a sharp intake of his vents, Megatron overloaded, his optics on Star's. He lowered his head for a kiss and it was as easy and slow as the rest of their interfacing had been. He rolled off Star and laid on his side on the berth, his hand trailing slowly over Star's canopy.

     “That was something different,” Star yawned through a grin.

     “Don't need another circuit blown.”

     His jet laughed. “I had forgotten about that.”

     Megatron growled.

     “The singeing, not the fragging, rust-bucket.”

     “That's right. You'd have better not forgotten the fragging,” the silver mech warned.

     “Never.”

     “I could use another recharge, but we have a quick practice before heading to Iacon.”

     “We really have to go two days early?”

     “Fraggin Shockwave has some slag up his plating.”

     “Oh, whatever,” Star said dismissively and sat up, flapping his wings slowly. “I guess let's get this slag over with.”

     The two mechs headed to the practice room after comm-ing over to Soundwave. The two sets of Decepticons arrived within kliks of each other and quickly got into their rehearsal.

     They did two run-throughs of their set now with “Til All Are One” as their grand finale. Not even Soundwave could hide his excitement after their practice ended. It was difficult to focus on getting their gear packed up and loaded into their transport, but they managed without much distraction.

     Once they were on the way to Iacon, their frames nearly vibrating with tension and anxiety and excitement, Star muttered, “I wish we did have an escort now. We deserve it.” Megatron tried not to laugh too loud.

     The trip to Iacon took five hours. Four of those hours were spent fidgeting in their seats, with instruments being picked up and put down, energon being dispensed only to not be drunk and optics flitting from one face to another over and over.

     Finally, Megatron stood up abruptly, growling, “Frag it.” The other Decepticons jumped at the sudden break in the silence. Their leader marched into the rear berthroom muttering, “Frag it, frag it, frag it,” like a mantra. After a minute, he came back with cubes of energon in his hands.

     “You carrier-fraggers are driving me crazy. Drink this and stop with this slag.” They each took a cube which turned out to be high-grade. Pretty smooth high-grade, too. “You get _one_ because we're not showing up at Shockwave's offices slammed like a bunch of rookies.”

     “But we're not roo--,” Warp started, and Megatron silenced him with a snarl.

     “Drink it and shut up. We still have another hour and I will be damned if I have to sit here and watch you all act like we're headed to deactivation.” With that, he turned and went back into the rear berthroom. Through the shut door, Megatron could hear the seekers arguing and Soundwave mediating. Not an anxious mech, by any means, Megatron still felt himself affected by the seekers' fidgeting in the passenger cabin.

     He would need his wits about him to handle Shockwave, and for that, he would need peace and calm for the next hour, not tension ratcheting up around him the closer they got to Iacon. Hearing the seekers settle down, Megatron laid on the berth and offlined his optics, relishing the quiet of the room, enjoying the thrum of the transport's engines through his frame.

     The ex-miner had nearly settled into recharge when the driver's comm alerted him to their proximity to Iacon. When Megatron finally left the rear berthroom, he found a quiet knot of seekers, Star being comforted between TC and Warp.

     The silver mech stopped in his tracks, his optics flashing, and said nothing. His spark flared possessively and anger was there, too. For himself because it was obvious that something had upset his jet and toward the other trine-mates for being there when he was not.

     As he stared, caught up in the emotions roiling in his spark, Star onlined his optics and motioned to Megatron from his spot in his trine-mates' arms. The former miner approached, taking his seeker's hand at his last step. Star pulled him into the knot and clutched his silver arm to his canopy.

     Megatron stood that way awkwardly for a few kliks. He puzzled over what to do next. Then his Star nuzzled his plating and pressed a light kiss on it. He stroked a wing in return.

     That now familiar beep sounded, breaking the silence and also their embrace. They noticed the transport slowing.

     “Decepticons: we have arrived at Shockwave's offices.”

     The jets disentangled themselves and Megatron led the Decepticons out onto the walkway. A tall silver-blue building stretched to the sky before them. The many panes of glass shone like chrome. Their driver appeared and said, “Shockwave's offices are on level twenty-three. The lift in the lobby will take you there.”

     The Decepticons entered the lobby and passed the security mech who seemed to be expecting them and waved them through to the lifts. The seekers squirmed and huffed in the lift and Megatron tried to hold onto the peaceful feeling in his spark, running the vid-file of his Star kissing his plating over and over.

     When the lift pinged and the doors slid open, the jets leaped out, wings flexing with relief. There was only one set of door in the landing, glass facing out of glass wall. A green femme sat at a large silver desk inside the office.

     “Shut the Pit up and follow me,” Megatron growled. Warp looked at his trine-mates; they hadn't vocalized a word since the transport. The doors swung open for their leader as he approached and the rest followed.

     “Megatron,” the femme said with a smile and a nod. “Decepticons. Right on time. Shockwave will see you in just a moment. Please sit.” She gestured to the small seating area off to the side.

     The Decepticons shuffled over and sat. A few kliks later, Megatron was about to lean over and clap Warp on the head for fidgeting constantly when the femme stood.

     “Come with me, Decepticons.” Warp jumped up and hurried to her side, his optics roving over her frame shamelessly. She smiled coolly at him and then led the band through a door and down a hallway with a series of doors. At the end, a larger door opened and she ushered them into Shockwave's office.

     Much like his personal transport and the Decepticons' transport, Shockwave's office was well-appointed. His desk was silver like his assistant's and his chair easily accommodated his bulky frame.

     “My good mechs, please be seated. We have much to talk about,” he motioned to the several couches around the room. As they sat, his assistant brought them small cubes of energon which they took quietly.

     “My agents report that your last two performances were spectacular. I trust that you have saved some energy for the Audial,” he began. The band just looked at him. “I also trust that you have completed the new song Starscream mentioned the night our contract was authorized.”

     Megatron answered for them. “We have. Its our best song yet.”

     “Good. There will be a preliminary soundcheck tomorrow. I will be there to hear it.”

     “I'm not playing it unless its for the show!” Starscream rose to his thrusters, wings held high in contempt. “Its being debuted at the show and nowhere else! I don't need your fragging approval!”

     Skywarp and Thundercracker winced in unison and Megatron also rose to calm his jet. “Star...,” he started, only to have a furious seeker jab a finger in his face.

     “Don't let him give those Autoscum the upper hand! This is a Decepticon song and its going to annihilate them before they know what hit them!”

     Megatron shrugged and sat down. “He's right. We're not going to perform it unless its at the show. We worked too hard on it and its our grand finale. No one hears it but us.” The rest of the band nodded in agreement.

     It was impossible for Shockwave to look shocked seeing as he was effectively faceless but his optic pulsed curiously.

     “I see that I'm up against some very determined mechs. I will trust you on this considering how far you've come since your debut. I do not want to be disappointed.” Starscream huffed loudly and looked away.

     “We're here two days early. What do you have planned for us?” Megatron asked, trying to ignore how Skywarp was craning his neck-cables to look at Shockwave's desk.

     “This night-cycle, I have a promotional shoot scheduled. Should take a few hours,” the cyclops said, reading from a datapad on his desk. “Tomorrow is the run-through. My agents are scouting for a bigger planetary tour with the Decepticons as support for a band from my roster.”

     Skywarp's head snapped up from whatever he was studying so quickly, there was an audible creak. Thundercracker followed that up with an elbow to the plating and a stern look.

     The purple mech continued. “To take place within a quartex of the Audial show. Another of my bands will begin a short off-world tour, only two deca-cycles, after you return from the planetary tour. The Decepticons will be direct support.” He looked up to observe the stunned faces of the other mechs.

     “You definitely work fast,” Thundercracker mused.

     “I do not waste my time nor the time of my clients,” Shockwave stated. “Careers build slowly through hard work and the harder you work, the longer those careers will be. I take it no mech objects to these plans.”

     A soft chorus of “no” answered him.

     “Good,” he said, powering down the datapad. “The shoot is in a few hours. I suggest you check in to your lodging and prepare yourselves. Polish lightly, if at all; mechs will be on location for polishing and touch-ups.”

     On cue, his assistant entered and beckoned the Decepticons to follow her yet again. Skywarp bounced after her and the others were on his thruster-heels. The femme smiled at them as they left.

     “Break a pede, Deceptions!” Skywarp beamed at her as Thundercracker herded him toward the lift.

     As they crowded into the lift, Megatron finally finished processing the scene in their manager's office and he marveled at how skillfully Shockwave had disarmed them and then overwhelmed them. He'd have to up his game for their next meeting with their manager.

     The seekers jostling each other brought him out of his processor and he warned them with a growl.

     “What's got you so torqued off, Megz,” Warp asked in between anxious venting.

     “What do you mean?” The silver mech's voice turned colder than a dark spark chamber.

     “You were so mad on the way here and you're mad now.”

     “Warp. Just shut up,” his blue bandmate ground out, optics on the ceiling.

     “No! We didn't do anything wrong and he wanted to scrap us all!” All three jets fixed their optics on their band leader.

     Megatron's optics narrowed as he weighed the danger of scrapping them all in a moving lift against the danger of facing Shockwave again without functional seekers. Soundwave shook his head slightly and Megatron vented in exasperation.

     “I'm fragging stressed out,” he admitted. If the seekers laughed, he would throw all bets out the window and scrap them anyway.

     To his surprise, Warp put a tentative hand on his arm, his optics mild. “We are, too, mecha. Its cool. This is a big deal for us. And we don't wanna make Old Shocker mad.”

     “Frag 'Old Shocker,'” Megatron grumbled. “Its slagging the Autobots that concern me.”

     “We've got that locked up tight,” Warp said, patting the scarred silver arm reassuringly. “With 'Til All Are One' up our plating, those slag-heads are over. And it was smart not to play it before the show. Frag them!”

     “That was my idea, you glitch,” Star reminded him nastily.

     “And we all backed you up, Screamer.”

     Before Star could reply, the lift pinged and the doors slid open on the ground floor. The band exited to the walkway and their waiting transport. On the way to their lodging in Iacon, the Decepticons passed the Audial.

     It was an large oval building with a white domed roof intricately latticed by contrasting support structures. The arena, the largest on Cybertron, could hold seventy thousand screaming mechs and Megatron made a note to ask about ticket sales the next time he spoke with Shockwave.

     The band arrived at their lodging after a short while; another luxury property that had Star walking around with dreamy optics. When he finished inspecting their room, he turned all business and shoved an amused Megatron into the washrack. Hoping for some action, the big mech pulled his jet to his frame and kissed him deeply. His seeker responded passionately but broke the kiss with a snarl.

     “No distractions, slagger,” he said as he pushed himself off his lover's frame. “We need to get ready and I'm not going to spend an hour buffing your paint off my frame.” Megatron frowned but his disappointment soon faded as Star started the solvent spray and began carefully detailing his plating with a soft brush.

     His jet worked the brush into the seams of his plating and Megatron groaned as he found particularly sensitive ones. Those earned him smiles from his lover.  
“That feels so good,” the former miner moaned as Star worked over his pedes. Then he smirked. “If this band thing doesn't work out, I should keep you as my dedicated washbot.”

     A hard, painful tweak of his wiring was the reply.

     As Star moved up his legs and back-strut, Megatron let himself relax into the sensations. His seeker moved around to his front again and made a few quick swipes at his face.

     “You can't wash the ugly off my face,” he joked.

     “You're not ugly, but you're as filthy as the Pit,” Star replied, the tips of his fingers gently tracing the angles of his lover's face. “You're not ugly at all.”

     Megatron caught that hand and kissed it and then pulled the brush out of Star's other hand. “Your turn.”

     Star sputtered as Megatron spun him into the spray and preceded to give his jet the most lascivious scrubbing of his function. Alternating between giggles and moans, Star gave himself over to Megatron's ministrations and the silver mech felt almost over-energized from the pressure in his spark.

     “Be careful with my wings, slag-head,” Star laughed as Megatron worked the brush over a joint. “I'm already on the edge.”

     Through a supreme act of will, Megatron kept his scrubbing light and innocent though Star still shivered with every stroke. When he finished, his jet took the brush and quickly went over a few places. He looked up at his lover with bright optics and another rare genuine smile on his lips. Shutting off the spray, he activated the dryer and stepped under it's vents.

     As he stepped out, Megatron stepped in and was soon dry. Star was waiting for him on the berth with a buffing mesh.

     “Its like you never gave a frag about your plating,” Star grumbled as he buffed the metal on his lover's chassis. “A million little scratches and dings.”

     “I was a work-build in the mines for thousands of years.”

     “They didn't have a medic?”

     “Not for scratches on our plating. And even then, they were a company medics so we did most of our repairs in our barracks. We did better jobs because it was our afts on the line in the mines. Can't rely on shoddy repairs to keep you functioning under millions of tons of rock.”

     Star paused, his optics searching Megatron's briefly. Then he resumed his work. “Guess you glitch about that time in your function for a reason.”

     “My function wasn't crystal towers and honors badges from the Science Academy.” Anger filled his jet's face and his lips pressed themselves thin, but it didn't last as Megatron finished his thought. “But its been better since I met you, especially lately.”

     His jet's face softened and his lips quirked up. “Mine's been better, too. There, I'm done. I doubt they'll want your square aft in the photos.” He flicked the mesh at the silver mech and it clung to his plating. “You do me.”

     “With pleasure,” he replied, resettling himself on the berth. He started with his seeker's shoulder vents and patiently worked his way down tri-colored frame. Megatron's own frame grew hot as he stroked the angles and planes of Star's plating and his optics trailed greedily after his hand. His lover was just as affected by the focused attention and caught his hand as it smoothed the mesh across his hip plating.

     “You have to stop,” he panted. Megatron frowned. “We'll take this up again this night-cycle. We don't have much time and I have something for you.”

     The big mech looked at his jet curiously and took a minute to vent off his internal heat. Star pulled a small box from sub-space, the same box he had picked up in Helex on one of their late-cycle strolls.

     “Its two things actually,” his seeker murmured, his optics on the box. Then his optics turned up to Megatron and they were dim and soft. “Offline your optics.”

     “Star,” the silver mech began, but his jet hushed him and motioned with his hand to hurry up. He reluctantly complied. He heard a click and then a small pop.

     “Don't move,” his lover hissed.

     If Megatron's optics had been online, they would have cycled. He wasn't sure why he agreed to this, whatever this was, but he tried not to flinch as something cold and moist touched his face.

     “What are you doing,” he growled.

     “Shut up. You'll like it.”

     “Primus won't be able to save you if I don't.” He felt more cold touches on his cheeks and vented a sigh. Star was painting something on him.

     “Okay. Optics still offline. One last thing,” Star said. A soft clinking sounded and then he felt something pass over his head and come to rest around his neck and on his chassis. “Come look.”

     Dragged him still blinded into the washrack again, Star pushed him into place.

     “Online!” His jet sounded excited. Megatron onlined his optics to see himself in the mirror in the washrack. Star had painted sharp red slash marks across his head, brows & cheeks. He looked much fiercer as he bared his denta at his reflection. And then his optics caught a glint and he looked down. A Decepticon logo hung there on a thick, sturdy chain.

     He fingered the cool metal thoughtfully and looked to Star's reflection. His jet looked pleased.

     “You look like a warrior,” Star stated proudly, his wings hitched high. Megatron's spark pulsed painfully in his chamber and he traced the pattern Star had taught him in Helex on one wing. The wing fluttered in response and his jet's optics grew bright.

     “This night-cycle,” Megatron promised solemnly. Then he leered at his jet who returned the look knowingly.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out a little more about just how Starscream ended up in Kaon auditioning for the Decepticons, and we meet the other bands on the bill at the Audial during the soundcheck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: nothing explicit. Some slashy comfort, angst, Megatron's shekshy mining panels(!), and more terrible song titles.

     As promised, the photoshoot took a few hours. More of Shockwave's agents bustled around the set, advising and fetching and adjusting equipment. Also, as promised, they were polished to gleaming by attendant mechs .

     Star was positively purring during the process, his burning optics catching Megatron's from time to time, full of terrible promise. One of the mechs even admired Star's handiwork on Megatron's red paint, who sighed as his lover's ego would be utterly unrestrained after this.

     The photomech was brisk and professional, requesting changes in poses and positions when necessary. They posed separately, with and without instruments, in groups, all together. The combinations seemed endless and the constant flashing of the lighting left the Decepticons reeling. Even Starscream, who arrived nearly bouncing on his thrusters, looked exhausted by the time the shoot was called.

     They were told “good job” and bustled back to their lodging, with one of the agents saying the images would be at Shockwave's office early the next day.

     The ride back to the lodging was quiet as was the ride in the lift to their rooms. In addition to their tiredness, it seemed that their future was finally dawning on the Decepticons. The seekers were silent and Megatron chased his own thoughts in his processor just as silently.

     In their room, Star pulled him down onto the berth and pressed himself to the silver mech's chassis. He vented softly for a few kliks before pulling back to meet Megatron's optics.

     “This is it,” he said.

     “Yes. There's no stopping this,” the bandleader affirmed.

     “I wouldn't want to. I will follow you across the stellarverse.”

     “I know, Star,” he said, pressing a kiss to the smaller mech's head.

     “I know we wanted to...,” Star trailed off, his optics dimming. “But I'm tired. Didn't think I could be too tired to frag you.”

     Megatron laughed. “Let's just stay like this.” He curled his arms tighter around his jet. Soon their venting slowed and they drifted into recharge.

 

*****

 

     Many hours later, Megatron onlined to find Star standing at their room's large window, looking out over Iacon. The silver mech took note of the position and movement of his jet's wings, indicating that he was not in a good mood.

     “What's wrong?” The white wings slumped further, but he didn't answer. “Star.”

     “I used to live here a long time ago. I haven't been back since I left.” His jet's voice was quiet and sad.

     “This has something to do with the scene on the transport yesterday.” His seeker nodded. Concern twinged in Megatron's spark. His lover was moody, but sadness didn't seem to be a part of his usual cycle of emotions. He felt unsure of what to do, much like when he found the seekers huddled together on the transport. But he remembered that Star had asked for his closeness so he left the berth and went to his jet, placing a hand on a his arm.

     A blue hand rose to cover his and caressed it slowly. His jet turned his head and looked up the former miner, his face a map of misery and loss.

     “Tell me.”

     Gray lips pressed down into a frown and vents hissed. Without ceasing his gentle petting of Megatron's hand, Starscream turned back to the window with a shrug.

     “My best friend, my only friend, died...and it was my fault.” The pain in his voice made it all the more brittle, like rusted metal and broken glass. “I couldn't save him and so I left.”

     “How did he die?”

     “He was lost on a planet during an expedition. It was a storm like we'd never seen before. I tried to find him. A rescue team tried to find him. He was gone.”

     “And that's your fault?” Megatron couldn't disguise the disbelief in his voice. Star pulled away as if shocked.

     “I didn't find him! I left him there!”

     “Did you force him to fly into that storm?”

     “No! I tried to stop him, but he said he could handle it.”

     “And he couldn't and he paid the price.” Taking advantage of his strength, Megatron spun an outraged Star to face him, hands gripping the smaller mech's upper arms. “Mechs make mistakes, mechs die. Unless you ripped his spark out, his death can't be blamed on you.”

     The jet sputtered, his face contorting with hurt and rage. “You don't understand! I let him die! The only mech that ever gave a slag about me! I let him die!”

     It was Megatron's turn to react as if shocked, but his anger quickly rose and he shook Star hard. “I don't understand? I saw mechs crushed under rock, buried alive in tunnel collapses, blown apart by unstable energon veins in the mines. If I blamed myself for the strike of my pick that brought down a tunnel and deactivated my teammates, we wouldn't be here, Star.”

     He let go of his jet, stepping away angrily. “I wish I could have walked away from everything then and never had to hear their screams in my processor ever again. But I learned, and it never happened on my watch again.”

     “I never forgot, but I learned to forgive myself. I did what I could. I tried to dig them out, tried pull them from the rubble. But that was against mine regulations, lowered productivity when we could be reassigned to other tunnels while the emergency teams cleared the cave-in. So if you did all you could, don't blame yourself. Mechs can't live that way.” His voice was quiet and thoughtful as his anger fizzled and Megatron just looked at Starscream.

     It seemed that the seeker's anger had burned out, too. He looked sad again. “I lost everything, Megatron. I gave up my research, my future, my family. I will never be free.”

     “I won't be free either, but I can do my best to live.” The former miner turned to look out the window and the brightening sunlight. A sharp, bitter laugh escaped his lips. “My bucket-head, right?” He turned to smirk at a puzzled Starscream. “I wear this to remind me. Of the mines, of the mechs I saw die, of how I won't be free of my past. But I will strive.”

     He reached up, pressed some latches hidden to Starscream's view, and removed his helm. Star's mouth gaped in shock. And when Megatron extended the slim panels that curled around his head, the jet nearly collapsed.

     Before he could stop himself, he stepped close, extending a curious hand. Then he did stop himself, his optics sliding to Megatron's face, a question in them.

     “Go ahead. Not too rough, they don't get much stimulation,” Megatron answered, his lips pressed into a weary smile.

     Encouraged, Star traced the edge of one panel lightly. The frame in front of him shivered. He hooked his finger around the tip and slid his hand down the backside in a caress. His lover groaned and the seeker chuckled.

     Then his face slackened, his sadness overcoming him again. Star dropped his hand and vented a sigh. “They're beautiful. I wish I could hide who I was and my memories that neatly.” He looked up into the silver mech's optics, which held a question of their own.

     “I'm the Crown Prince of Vos,” the jet said with a sad smile. “My creators are the Emirates.”

     It was Megatron's turn to sputter and gape. His seeker gave a small laugh.

     “I walked away from my home, my city-state, my people, my duty, my inheritance. I left Vos, I left Iacon. And here I am again, the wayward prince, playing in a rock band.” He shrugged.

     “You? A prince? And this life makes you happy?” Megatron asked, spreading his hands to encompass everything.

     “Happier. Happier still when I didn't have to return to the site of my greatest failure and disgrace.”

     “This has to happen,” the larger mech said, his face becoming stern. “This is where our revolution starts.”

     “No, I know, and I said I was with you. Always.” Red optics were dim and wistful. “It just hurts all over again.”

     “Then be with me, Star. Be with me, and ride your Destiny at my side,” he said, holding out a huge black hand. His seeker looked down at his offered hand, then up at this face. He held for few beats, then took the hand. Megatron pulled him close.

     Star pressed his face to the silver chest and let his frame relax. The minute vibrations of the engines beneath and heat radiating from within soothed his aching spark. Venting a sigh, he tilted his face up to study the larger mech. His optics studied those surprisingly delicate panels framing the silver face, fascinated by them.

     Starscream offered that mech a thin smile. “Always,” he whispered, meeting intense red optics with a fierce look of his own. “Til all are one.” Strong silver arms tightened their hold on him frame in answer and lips pressed against his own in promise.

     They clung together that way for several minutes, venting softly, not moving, not speaking. At last, Megatron sighed and loosened his arms slightly. Star let him go and stepped back, his optics studying the ex-miner's still-extended panels.

     “Get your fill now. They're going back under,” he rumbled, lowering them so as to replace his helm.

     A pout formed on his seeker's lips. “Soon. We'll see just how much stimulation they can handle,” the jet teased.

     A soft click signaled the seating of his helm and then Megatron swept his Star back into his arms and kissed him hard. “Yes.”

     His seeker's frame shivered in response to the heat and desire in that simple vocalization and he replied with one equal in both: “Now.”

     Megatron chuckled darkly. “Soon, Prince Starscream.” He laughed again as said prince squawked gracelessly. “I won't tell your secret though I must be the only one that didn't know, having been stuck on a mining colony for most of my function.” Another kiss calmed his jet.

     A ping to his comm-line stopped any further action. It was Soundwave, and they were going to be late for today's soundcheck at the Audial.

     “Time for action, Star. We're due at the Audial sooner than we'll be there,” the silver mech said, sighing resignedly.

     “Frag it. I'm collecting my due tonight, commoner,” the seeker said, bounding out of reach of the hand aiming for his wing with a laugh. He stopped at the door and turned back, face serious. “You didn't have to, you know. But I feel better now that you did.” He smiled, and Megatron did his best to not to spill his spark at the sight.

     “I know, and I'm glad I did.” He opened the door and they both stepped into the corridor. They met the other Decepticons in the lobby; Skywarp and Thundercracker nearly tackling them in their excitement and Soundwave broke it up, shoving everyone out to the their waiting transport.

     On the short trip to the arena, Megatron felt like his drummer was watching him disapprovingly; he hated being late. In answer, the silver mech shrugged his shoulders. A visor flashed once and the issue was resolved.

*****

     Since their equipment had been transferred to the Audial after their photoshoot the previous night-cycle, the Decepticons only had to walk in, rock out, and walk out. Or so they thought. A mech at the door directed them toward the lift that would take them down into the backstage areas.

     Upon exiting the lift, they stepped into the middle of a scene of controlled chaos, and presiding over all of it was Shockwave. Over the sounds of pedefalls, instruments tuning up, mechs conversing, and equipment rolling, his odd voice carried, directing the flow of traffic and the dozen or so agents managing the various aspects of the soundcheck.

     After addressing a blue mech with a purple badge, who then hurried off, Shockwave turned and caught sight of the Decepticons. He waved them over.

     “You've joined us. Excellent.” His optic flashed. “Soundcheck will begin in half an hour,” he said, waving his hand again. A huge grey flier approached at his signal. “This is Astrotrain. He will manage your road crew. Acquaint yourselves and see that everything is done as indicated.” Shockwave turned and signaled another mech.

     “Decepticons, follow me and I will introduce you to the rest of your crew,” Astrotrain said quickly, turning on his pedes and striding toward a cluster of mechs crowded around a familiar clump of equipment.

     Before following the rest of his band and their new road manager, Megatron turned back to Shockwave, a smirk on his lips.

     “Shockwave, I trust that we will not be playing to empty seats tomorrow.”

     The purple mech paused, hand in mid-air, optic dimming slightly, but his next vocalization was smooth: “The Audial sold out three days ago, Megatron.”

     “Excellent.” Megatron turned to catch up to his band to see Soundwave watching as silently as ever.

     The Decepticons were introduced to their road crew, and at the half-hour mark, mechs began making their way to the stage. After adjusting their monitor levels, the opening band, a glam-punk trio designated The Coneheads, ran through their setlist.

     Skywarp thrust his face between Megatron and Starscream, who were standing together, watching intently and said, “These mechs are  _good_ .”

     “They aren't slag compared to us,” his trineleader hissed sharply, wings fanning in irritation.

     “Indeed,” Megatron agreed. “Now that I see them, I want a higher place on the bill. Its nothing for us to follow this.” A hand rested lightly on his arm.

     It was Soundwave. “Megatron: performing between two lesser sets is optimal situation.”

     “Its optimal that we crush every band on this bill tomorrow. I want Orion Pax to  _hear_ the end of his career.”

     “Orion Pax: will know his doom. Decepticons: superior band. Supremacy: undisputed.”

     The miner grunted his assent. “We'll be up in a while. Let's play the Tesarus set, end with 'Rust In Peace' and 'Civil War.' Objections?”

     No Decepticon took exception, their faces settling into grim lines.

     When the Coneheads closed their set, Astrotrain motioned the Decepticons to the stage where their crew was quickly positioning their equipment. As Megatron stepped to his customary spot on the stage, a flash of color caught his optics. The Autobot singer, Orion Pax, was standing in the wings, accompanied by a smaller black and white mech with a blue visor.

     On the opposite side of the stage, the hulking green and purple frames of the Constructicons assumed similarly attentive positions. The miner's narrowed optics flared as he gave both sets of mechs a feral grin. A quick look at his band showed him the ferocity and determination that was going to take them to the top.

     When Megatron cued the beginning of 'Breakin' the Law,' the first notes rang through the Audial like an opening salvo. In all their processors and sparks, the Decepticons felt the battle had begun.

*****

 

     Megatron stepped off the stage, venting hard. The Decepticons' soundcheck had been flawless. The seeker trine and Soundwave joined him as their road crew swept their equipment away, and another crew swept another set in.

     Star's optics burned with a terrible light and as he opened his mouth to speak, his bandleader held up a hand. “Not here, Star. We say nothing here.” The seeker's mouth snapped shut, his optics flickering slyly.

     “Megatron?”

     The red and blue Autobot leader stood just outside the Decepticon huddle.

     “Orion Pax,” Megatron acknowledged him clipped tones.

     “Congratulations on the Decepticons' place on the bill.” His mask covered his mouth, but the smile in his vocalization was obvious.

     “We earned it.”

     “By your soundcheck, that much is apparent.” He made a short turn, hand extended, and three mechs stepped out from behind his tall frame. “Jazz,” the black and white mech waved, “Wheeljack,” another masked mech with fins on his head, “Bumblebee,” tiny, yellow, and brightly smiling, “and I are pleased to share the stage with you tomorrow.”

     Star huffed loudly through his vents, earning him a sharp look from Megatron. “We appreciate the introduction. We look forward to tomorrow's performances.” The red jet returned the sharp look. “Until next time, Pax.”

     Turning, the silver mech strode off the stage, his band at his heels. After a long, hard glare at the Autobots, Star marched up to Megatron's side, his face furious.

     “What was that,” he hissed, wings flared wide and aggressive.

     “Politics.”

     “Politics? What? I can't understand you with your glossa up his valve!”

     Without breaking stride, the ex-miner clamped a huge hand on Star's shoulder vent, and pulled the jet's audial to his lips, forcing Star to awkwardly hop on his thrusters to keep from falling. “You  _will_ silence that horrible vocalizer of yours until I give you permission to speak again.” His growl rumbled in his chest as he shoved the stumbling seeker away. “I will not repeat myself.”

     The look of hurt mingling with rage on the seeker's dark face squeezed his spark, but Megatron kept his own face stern.

     Star turned away, wings lowering, and his trine-mates rushed to his side.

     “Damn it all. I can't win,” Megatron muttered, feeling his spark sink in it's chamber.

     “Starscream: do not upset further. Tomorrow: performance will be enough apology.”

     “I would never imagined that my voice of reason would sound like you, Soundwave.” Relief nearly choked Megatron's vocalizer with static.

     “Megatron: analyze competition now; talk later.”

     Both mechs settled in to watch the final three bands: Ratchet and the Wrenches, the Constructicons, and the Autobots. Eventually, three sullen seekers joined them in silence as the Constructicons took the stage for their soundcheck.

     “Heavy,” commented Skywarp.

     “But hokey,” Megatron countered.

     “Compositions: 4/5 timing in Harmonic Scale Number 8.”

     “All their songs  _do_ sound the same, don't they,” said the silver mech.

     “I never noticed that. How did these mechas get so famous?”

     “I bought their first digi-disc cos the cover art was so bad-aft, Warp,” answered his blue trine-mate.

     “Ah yeah. 'Constructors from the Pit' had the best cover! They were brawlin in that awesome road bar! Mecha, they do have the best covers.”

     “And the mystery is solved,” Megatron said dryly. “We've got them by the axles.”

     The Constructicons finished their set without further comment from the Decepticons, but the tension in their frames markedly increased as the Autobots moved onto the stage.

     “Not a sound from any mech until they're done,” the ex-miner growled. “Observation only.” The jets stiffened, the movement of their wings stilling. “And relax, silence is a strategy.”

     The Autobots took up their instruments and readied themselves: Orion Pax at the mic with his guitar, Jazz on electro-bass, Bumblebee at his drumkit, and Wheeljack with some strange, unrecognizable instrument.

     “What the frag...,” Warp began, but TC cut him off with a pinch to his wing. The teleporter huffed and rubbed his plating gingerly, scowling at the blue jet crowding him. Thundercracker gave his trine-mate a threatening look and pinched his fingers together with a sharp twist of his hand.

     Megatron recognized their opening song, “We Will Rock You.” Most notably because it stayed on the Cybertron Hot Hits Chart at number one for three quartexes until their next single knocked it off. It was also a popular standard at every sporting event on Cybertron and all of it's colonies.

     The Autobots' set list ran like a greatest hits collection with a few fan favorites sprinkled in at key points. The Decepticon vocalist had to admit that Pax's clear tenor and rollicking guitar riffs were well-matched. The entire band was solid, and Wheeljack's almost comical, ever-revolving selection of self-made instruments with their odd sounds complemented the vocals and music perfectly.

     But Megatron believed in his Decepticons. Not even the Autobots' most famous song, “Praxian Rhapsody,” with all four mechs taking turns with the mock-operatic vocal lines could hold an electro-torch to “Til All Are One.” And as expected, their rivals performed that as their final encore.

     Clenching his fists discreetly in a victory he already felt was certain, Megatron nodded toward the exit and the Decepticons moved as one toward it. As he spotted Shockwave already conversing with Orion Pax, he raised a hand and called, “Good set, Pax.” The mech waved back, but his reply was lost as the band passed into the lift back to street level.

     Back in the transport, Starscream threw himself into a seat, crossing his arms over his cockpit.

     “You can speak now, if you wish,” smirked his bandleader.

     “Why would I even want to talk to you? You brutalized me, you ruffian!” The jet stared out the window, his face drawn in hard lines.

     “Because we need to talk about how the Audial is ours tomorrow.”

     “It is, after watching that  slag for the last _four_ hours, but I still don't want to talk to you.”

     “You're talking to me right now.”

     “You...you know what I mean! You made me look like a fool!”

     “After our set tomorrow, no one will ever think you are a fool. Or that the Decepticons are some one-hit wonder.” Megatron eased his large frame next to Star. “We're going to rock every aft at the Audial and your song will be the Autobots' epitaph.”

     Star finally turned his head to face the silver mech. “I still don't want to talk to you, but I will talk about how 'Til All Are One' is going blow away anything those afts ever recorded. 'Fat Bottomed Frames!' The frag?!”

     Megatron allowed himself a small smile as one of Star's hands slipped down to grip his knee plating as his jet began a vicious tirade against the tiny, yellow Autobot drummer. He looked over to Soundwave, who acknowledged him silently.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ratchet AKA Party Ambulance" deactivates me every time. I imagine him sort of like Blackie Lawless from W.A.S.P., a hard-drinkin, hard-partyin, all night-cycle-long frag-machine when he's in Party Ambulance mode. And of course, all his songs would be true stories.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who will dine in the Pit tonight? THIS. IS. IACON!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: coarse language and amps that go all the way to 11.

     By his chronometer, Megatron onlined an hour before his wake-up call was scheduled, so he canceled it by datalink. He looked down at the recharging seeker hugging his arm like a sparkling and then over at the empty, rumpled berth next to his.

     Star hadn't explicitly forgiven him for the scene at the Audial, but at some point, his jet had crept into Megatron's berth during the night-cycle.

     The silver mech slipped his arm from his seeker's grasp and quietly got up. Despite onlining early, he felt rested and ready for the Decepticon's debut at the Audial. He pinged Soundwave's commlink and received an immediate response.

     ::Megatron::

     ::Group refuel in the lobby in an hour. Then we'll head to the Audial.”

     ::Affirmative::

     He twitched the curtain aside and looked down at Iacon in the mid-day light. All the buildings sparkled white-gold and the transports and shuttles in the roadways and air traffic lanes shone with the same light. Iacon looked clean and fresh, ripe for conquest.

     Glancing over his shoulder at his motionless seeker, Megatron let the curtain fall back into place and entered the washrack. He used a mesh to hit a few spots and preserve what polish remained on his frame, letting the hot solvent stream over his plating.

     After he stepped out from the dryer, he spotted the red paint Star had used on him on a counter and reached for it to do some touch-ups.

     “Ruin my work and I'll send you to the Unmaker myself.” In the mirror, Megatron saw his jet leaning in the washrack doorway, a smirk on his face. Gliding up to his leader, Star tapped on his brow and said, “After I wash up, I'll fix this.”

     Megatron smiled, relieved that Star was speaking to him again in earnest. It wouldn't bode well for their performance if the seeker still held a grudge for the scene at the Audial the day before.

     In the next beat, the ex-miner looped Star's raised arm around his neck and crushed cockpit to chest-plating. A brutal kiss on lips opened in surprise followed. His seeker wasted no time in reciprocating the attention, clutching at the silver plating as Megatron's glossa slid between his lips.

     He growled as he pulled back from the kiss, and his jet pulled him back in for another. The silver mech broke the kiss again, and held Starscream back as he moved to close the distance. A frown of confusion drew the dark face into long lines.

     “We need to save our energy for the Audial,” the big mech said. “A five-klik frag isn't enough for me right now.”

     Star startled. “Who said...? Oh.” His smirk returned. “I see. I'll hold you to that.” He stepped under the showerhead, fluttering his wings enticingly as he threw a sly look around his shoulder vent.

     Megatron exited the washrack as the seeker started the solvent flow and began the pacing the room. His typical pre-show anticipation was beginning early, and he let it roll through his frame without resistance.

     When Star reappeared with the can of paint, Megatron seated himself on their berth and let the jet retouch his jagged red slash marks. After his seeker finished his task, Megatron caught his hand, tracing the seams with a large thumb.

     Looking up into bright red optics, the ex-miner pushed down a different type of anticipation and said: “It means more than I can say that you gave the Decepticons 'Til All Are One.' And our victory will be all the greater because you are part of it.” He struggled not to drop optic contact as Star's optics dimmed and the subtle movement of his wings ceased altogether.

     “You know that I...I...I will follow you to whatever end,” the jet stuttered, his clattering wings signaling his anxiety. A small frown pressed his lips thin, and he gripped the black hand in his tighter. “Megatron, you are...,” he began haltingly.

     The silver mech found himself leaning toward his jet, spark spinning at a dizzying speed.

     “You are.... You are the.... I mean, I just.... Oh frag it!” He gave up and pressed a quick hard kiss on Megatron's lips. The big mech still felt his spark's spinning slow in disappointment.

     Dropping his hand, Star stood up, wings fanning in agitation and embarrassment. “Are we meeting those fraggers soon?”

     “We should head down now.” His voice sounded flat, but both mechs pretended nothing was amiss as they rode the lift down to the lobby to meet the rest of the band. The bright smiles of the other two seekers waiting alongside Soundwave relieved the silent tension between the guitarist and bandleader, and filled them with an altogether better emotion.

 

*****

 

     The Decepticons arrived at the Audial as scheduled, their transport rolling down into the venue's private underground garage away from the throng of rowdy mechs already lining up for the show. Yet another of Shockwave's agents was waiting to lead them via a series of hallways to the backstage area where Astrotrain met them.

     “Well met, Decepticons,” the gray mech said briskly. “Your crew is ready; all that's left is to wait. That door will take you to the Decepticon green room.” He pointed to a door affixed with a temporary Decepticon logo. “Your guitars are there. Energon dispenser is full. Countdown begins an hour out, then by the breem. I'll check in with you later.”

     Their road manager strode off and the Decepticons found themselves moving toward the door Astrotrain had indicated. In typical Starscream fashion, the jet raced ahead of them and burst into the room, wings flaring with excitement.

     He promptly plopped himself into a couch, propping his thrusters on one end to take up the entire seat. “Warp, bring me a cube,” the jet wheedled, holding a blue hand out expectantly.

     “Sure thing, Lord Starscream,” the teleporter grumbled, dispensing the requested cube and two more for himself and TC. He made sure to slosh Star's cube as he set it into the waiting hand, getting it wet in the process.

     Star's hiss was answered with a small pop and a flash, and Warp reappeared immediately on the seat furthest from his irritated trineleader. “Oops,” he offered with an innocent grin.

     The red jet glared at the purple with narrowed optics over the rim of his cube.

     “Enough,” Megatron rasped as he sat with his own cube in hand. “Set list is the same as yesterday, but we're dropping 'Battery' to make room for 'Til All Are One.' Objections?”

     There were none.

     The vocalist continued. “With Star's song, a fair fight is the Autobots' problem. We are walking out of this venue the victors.” The rest of the band cheered loudly. “Warm-ups start when Astrotrain gives us the one hour notice. Until then, kick back, mechs.”

     What felt like years passed as the Decepticons lounged in their room, idle conversations starting and fizzling out. It was a sort of forced relaxation as all their processors were busy with thoughts of their impending performance.

     Without an warning, Astrotrain lumbered into the room, causing Starscream to vocalize an undignified squawk and Skywarp to teleport behind his seat. “One hour, Decepticons,” he said tersely, and left just as he came.

     The seekers scrambled for their guitars and Warp began his hand exercises. A steady _tap tap tap_ joined the sounds of guitar scales as Soundwave played on his practice pad. With a satisfied nod at the scene before him, Megatron offlined his optics, slowed his vents, and cleared his processor in meditation.

     When Astrotrain returned to unceremoniously announce, “Seven breems, Decepticons,” Megatron felt much better.

     “Six breems, Decepticons.”

     “Five breems, Decepticons.”

     “Four breems, Decepticons.”

     “Three breems. Get your afts out there.” Silently, the mechs filed out of their room and walked across the backstage area, which was a whirlwind of activity as the Coneheads launched into their final song.

     The Constructicons and Autobots were nowhere to be seen, probably hidden away in their own rooms, but Megatron had a feeling that certain familiar frames would be watching the Decepticons from the sides of the stage.

     A wave of muffled cheers accompanied the fade of music and mechs milling next to the stage sprang into action. The Coneheads appeared at the head of the stage ramp and threaded their way down as mechs rolled equipment both ways. A smattering of applause and a few shouts of “Good set!” met them as they trudged across the backstage to their room.

     “Two breems, Decepticons.” Seeker wings twitched, flicked, and fanned in anticipation, and Megatron was once again glad his emotions were not so easily read.

“One breem, Decepticons.” Each set of optics searched the others in turn. Megatron pushed his fist into the center of their huddle. Four fists met his without hesitation. “All these fraggers are going to get rocked like never before,” he began. “With us to thank for it. Today is the last day we blow with the wind. Today is the day we _harness Iacon_.”

     Blue, black, and purple fists thrust into the air, savage grins on the faces below them.

     Astrotrain returned when the last of the crew came down the ramp. “Say your prayers and kiss your carriers goodbye, Decepticons! Go, go, go!”

     As each band member passed their road manager to follow Megatron up the ramp and onto the shadowed stage, the large mech gave them a quick, firm pat on their shoulder plating, grounding them with the contact. A healthy round of wild cheers greeted their audials as their silhouettes appeared on the stage.

     Tense frames relaxed into familiar stances, and the Decepticons assumed their spots with their equipment. Ready to unleash their hard rock assault, they looked to their leader.

     “Megatron, we await your command,” his guitarist said, face grim.

     “Show no mercy. Everything...,” the silver mech gestured to the sold out arena beyond the darkened stage. “All of this. Burns.”

     Stepping into his customary position at the head of the stage, Megatron wrenched his battered mic to his lips and growled as the spotlight hit his plating. The sound reverberated across the space and he felt the focus of the crowd like tangible force.

“ _Wake up_ , Cybertron,” he boomed into the mic. “We are the Decepticons, and rock as you know it _is ending_!”

 

*****

 

     To Megatron's right, Star pulled off one last squeal of his guitar to close “Civil War,” and then slung the instrument in a graceful arc over his head by the neck. To Megatron's left, Thundercracker urged the applause on, balancing on the monitors with typical seeker grace. Megatron himself stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and let the two seekers work the crowd; they all needed a minute to vent before their big finale.

     In the ambient light of the stage, the Decepticons saw outstretched hands straining toward them, mouths open wide in shouts and cheers, optics blazing out from faces.

     The two seekers hopped down from their perches and Megatron engaged his mic again. The cheers quieted slightly.

     “I'm sure you fraggers all want to know who has been kicking yours afts for the last thirty kliks.” Hoots and the clanging of fists against plating came back immediately.

     “On guitar: Starscream.” The seeker bowed with a ridiculous flourish as the spotlight found him.

     “Bass: Thundercracker.” More cheers as the blue jet saluted.

     “Keys: Skywarp.” The teleporter popped in front of his keyboard to awed shouts.

     “Drums: Soundwave.” A smart, short beat was the drummer's acknowledgment.

     The big mech tipped his chin up and addressed the crowd with an raised hand. “I am Megatron, and we are the Decepticons. Welcome to the faction, Iacon.”

     After a pause for more cheers: “We have one more song for you.” Beyond the light of the stage, he could see the crowd writhing as mechs jostled each other, pushing forward, and he beckoned them. “Don't be shy, fraggers.” Laughs and jeers answered the silver mech.

     “We wrote this song just for you. Wanna hear it?” Seventy thousand mechs screamed as the Decepticon leader held the mic out toward them.

     “I'm not convinced. Wanna hear it?” Seventy thousand mechs beat their fists on their plating.

     “One more time.” Seventy thousand mechs stomped their pedes.

     “That's more like it,” Megatron smirked. “Give us everything you've got. This is 'Til All Are One!'”

     The wild cheers of the crowd faded from Megatron's audials as the song began and he focused his entire being on pushing his spark out into the Audial through his vocalizer.

     “O Destiny, how it pleases you  
     To caress a few  
     And molest others.  
     Today, Destiny, you will be harnessed.  
     You will be ridden and forced.  
     Today is the day we stop blowing with the wind.  
     Today is the day we ride!”

     “We are the forgotten trying to forget.  
     We are without fear.  
     We will make our mark upon this world  
     Til all are one!”

     “So we bring our misery together  
     And fight!  
     Give us the steel,  
     We'll give you a weapon!  
     With a blade in hand,  
You remember, you feel it:  
     You're alive!”

     “We are the forgotten trying to forget.  
     We are without fear.  
     We will make our mark upon this world  
     Til all are one!”

  
The spotlight hit Starscream's plating as the other stage lights dimmed, and the blinding white of his wings couldn't match the fire in his optics. Every optic watched the seeker as he began his solo.

     Head thrown back, the red seeker's spark was in his hands as he ripped the notes from his guitar. As he fingers sped along the strings toward the song's peak, his thrusters fired and his frame rose in the air, spinning slowly.

     At the final note, Star arched his back-strut, wings flared high and wide, guitar offered to the sky, holding steady for what seemed like an eternity.

     Megatron gaped. Starscream was magnificent. He shone, he _burned_ ; he was nothing the stellarverse had ever witnessed.

     Then note broke, and Star dropped to the stage as his thrusters cut. He landed legs bent and spread wide to absorb the impact, guitar swinging low, and went straight into the next verse. The Decepticons didn't miss a beat.

     And they didn't miss the fury with which the crowd responded. The barricade crumpled, security mechs leaping away under their frantic, desperate shoving as Megatron pushed his vocalizer to it's limits:

     “One spark,  
     One badge,  
     One frame,  
     One face,  
     One voice,  
     One designation!  
     We are the Decepticons!”

     “We are the forgotten trying to forget.  
     We are without fear.  
     We will make our mark upon this world  
     Til all are one!”

He kept the improvisation from practice session in Helex:

“Today we ride!  
     Ride to ruin and the world's ending!  
     TIL ALL ARE ONE!”

The sound inside the Audial reached strut-quaking levels as the Decepticons closed their set. Howls, screams, shouts, clanging, pounding, stomping all mingled together with the feedback Starscream coaxed from his amplifiers in a violent cacophony.

     Megatron sliced the air with a hand and Star cut his amps. The mechs below them seethed, writhed, and surged as one, hands reaching, frames straining, screaming for more.

     It started with just a few voices, but quickly rallied louder and stronger, filling the arena:

     “Decepticons! Decepticons! DECEPTICONS!”

     The Decepticons came to the front of the stage when Megatron motioned to them. Starscream bowed just as ridiculously as before, his trine-mates waved furiously, and Soundwave raised his drumsticks toward the crowd. Vocalization at that point was futile, but the band took their cue and left the stage. Megatron watched them go, then turned back to his new recruits, his army another seventy thousand strong.

     Looking out over the sea of frenzied mechs, he raised his mic above his head. Then slammed it with all his strength into the stage where it exploded, tiny pieces of metal and circuitry pinging off his plating. Megatron left the stage without a backward glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled so much with the opening scene of this chapter. Frag my function, right? Also, Halloween wrecked me. Anyhow, just a few chapters left plus a little bitty epilogue. Hold on to your afts!


End file.
